Fine Lines
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: When Okita crosses paths with a young widow, they both find themselves entangled in a blissful romance. When secrets are revealed and the lines of duty and loyalty drawn, love alone may not be enough to cross them. Okita/OC, Saitou/Tokio
1. A New Home

**Author's Note: **I don't know whether I should apologize or not.

I want to, only because I keep getting NEW ideas, which slows down the older stories, but the more I have going on in my brain, the more I need to get it out, so it keeps me going on all of them.

I tried to push this one down. I really did. I told myself, "I have too much going on right now. Three unfinished fics? God only knows how many unfinished stories. A business? A wedding in 6 months? A toddler? Some sort of social life? Don't do it."

But you see, this is was the only thing on my mind for the past two weeks. Taking that as a sign that until I got this at least _started_, everything else would be standing still, I gave in. Not to mention, I'm really addicted to this fandom/era. I can't seem to let it go.

So here I am, fic #4. I think maybe I don't need to feel guilty about it, that maybe secretly someone was waiting for something more to read and look forward to. And maybe, just maybe this time around I can make you all like Katsura as much as I do. :3

Probably not.

In any case, thanks for hanging out, all, and enjoy my take on the popular subject that is forbidden romance.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

Also, blah blah blah I'm changing history because I can. Same old same old.

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 01**

On a fair day just on the tail end of summer, a carriage rolled through the streets of Kyoto. It went unnoticed by many, as there were many people of respectable income who traveled this way. With the times as they were, there were even more people entering and leaving the city than usual and the citizens had grown quite accustomed to the vehicles.

Inside the carriage sat a young woman, just having reached her twenty-third year, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, and shifting her feet impatiently. It had been two and a half days since she had left her home town of Hagi and she was tired, stiff, and _bored_. There were only so many times one could read the same few books and carriage rides did not lend themselves to good penmanship in the event (no matter how unlikely) she might feel up to writing a bit of poetry.

"Just a few more minutes, Shousha," she whispered to herself, tapping the tips of her fingers against themselves, "we're almost there."

She wasn't sure if they were near their destination, but she certainly hoped so. Actually, she didn't _care._ She had made up her mind that if the horses didn't stop by the time she had counted to three hundred, she would halt them herself and _walk_ the rest of the way.

Luckily, she only had to count to one hundred eighty-four before the wheels halted and the driver shuffled down to open the door.

"Yamata-san," he said politely, extending a hand to assist her.

She ignored him and hopped down, though his disapproving sniff did not go unnoticed by her. Turning to him, she raised her chin.

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself Hoji," she told him with narrowed eyes, "even in this filthy, noisy city."

Unappreciative of her ever present assertiveness, Hoji stiffened. He would be glad to transfer her over to the man sent to meet her and be on his way. Six years of service was six years too long.

"Please recall that it was your choice to come here, madam," he said with a politely edgy tone.

Balling her tiny hands into fists, the petite woman flashed her eyes at him. "_You_ are dismissed."

He studied her for a moment. His orders had been clear: _Stay by her side until trusted man arrives_. There was no reason for him to ignore that command, except for the fact that technically, he was under direct order of Shousha herself. If _she_ were to dismiss him, well, he couldn't very well say no.

"Very well madam," he said with a smile and a bow, "I pray that your time in Kyoto is well worth it."

"Yeah," she scoffed in return as he climbed up onto the carriage, "I bet you do."

Left alone at what seemed to be the cusp of the marketplace, Yamata Shousha found herself in an unfortunate situation. She had dismissed her only servant and had absolutely no idea who the trusted man to meet her was. There were a vast number of people on the streets this morning and one little woman standing with one bag filled with possessions didn't exactly stand out.

Sighing, she turned around in a circle, taking in the street, before crouching, using the balls of her feet to support her weight. Several pieces of straw littered the ground and she picked one up, doodling idly in the dirt. She had told herself she would have gladly walked to her destination, but for all her skill in navigating, she had never been to this city and didn't know where her destination _was._

_ "Stupid, stupid, stupid,_" she muttered. Of all the foolish choices she had made in her life, this may have been top three at least.

After several minutes of pondering, and a few more minutes of drawing what was, in her opinion, quite an impressive self portrait (as far as lines in dirt went), she decided to head down towards the marketplace. Surely someone would know where she ought to go.

As she stood, dusting off her knees, she felt a small body collide with her own. The faint jingle of coins was heard and as she watched the dirty little boy make away with a triumphant smile, she felt her stomach drop.

She had been robbed.

Refusing to let this city get the best of her in her very first hour, she picked up her bag, clutched it to her chest, and tore after him, screaming.

"Get back here you little rat!" she cried, allowing adrenaline to carry her through the crowd, "I'll knock your teeth out!"

The street urchin was fast, much faster than she, but she kept running. She was far from the meeting point by now, but missing a trusted man was the least of her worries. All the wealth she had was portable, and much of it was in that purse. She wouldn't survive without it.

As the two of them zig zagged through the crowds, no one paid them any mind. No one tried to stop the boy and no one put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Miss, it's alright, I'll help you."

Except one man.

Okita Soushi had been on an errand. It was a simple errand; he was running low on his his favourite soap. He rather enjoyed taking trips to market and found himself doing so more often than he had to. There was something refreshing about the hustle and bustle of people's daily lives, something pleasing about the atmosphere.

There were, of course, always disruptions.

He saw them coming, the small pickpocket and the brave young woman who was so determined to stop him. He anticipated their movements, and when he smiled and stretched out his arm, the young thief's forehead slapped against his open palm and he fell to the ground, whining and rubbing the sore spot.

"I apologize for the bruise you may have in the morning," he said laughing as he bent to retrieve the purse, "but any man who dares steal from a lady deserves a bit of pain."

Shousha arrived then, using one hand on a merchant's cart to steady herself as she gasped for breath.

"Th-thank-thank you," she huffed, "thank you so much."

Okita handed her the silk pouch, but let his smile fade slightly. "You are lucky, miss, but you should know better than to have your money where it can easily be taken, These are desperate times, you know."

Put off by his audacity to reprimand her, Shousha straightened. "No, I did not know how desperate the times are," she bit off, "I didn't expect this city to be so uncivilized."

Surprised by her tone and quick tongue, Okita's eyes widened in surprise and then he laughed. "Forgive me. I did not realize you are a guest in our city."

She relaxed, stuffing the purse into her bag. "It's alright," she said, "I'm just having a terrible day."

"I imagine," he said, nodding solemnly before peering around," but, if you are visiting, you must have an escort of some sort, yes? I don't believe you would be here fending for yourself."

"I've come to live with my brother," she said, "and he _had_ sent someone to meet me, but then I was robbed."

Taking her gently by the elbow, Okita nudged her to take a few steps backwards as a team of horses plowed through the street.

"Most people these days are looking to leave Kyoto," he told her, "why have you come to stay?" She sent him a curious look and he added hastily, "If you don't mind me asking."

"My husband passed on to the next life last week," she said absently, scanning the crowd for a familiar face, "his family looks upon me unkindly, the temperamental pricks that they are, so I am seeking refuge with the only family I have left."

This surprised him and he took in her appearance. Just as week after her husband's death and she wore not the black of a woman in mourning, nor the white obi of a widow sworn never to remarry. No, this incredibly bold and strange woman was dressed in a fabulously glittering red and gold furisode, its long sleeves fluttering in the morning breeze, silently daring anyone to speak out against them.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, her large chocolate eyes snapping his own from his daze. She was close. Too close for propriety's standards.

Okita furrowed his brows, though he did his best to force out a smile, "My apologies, madam, but you, er, you don't _look_ like a widow," he said, stepping back from her slightly. She didn't appear to be a married woman suffering loss, but a forceful maiden on the prowl.

"Oh," she said, looking down at her clothes and letting out a horrifyingly cheeky chuckle, "well that's because I'm much better off this way."

"I beg your pardon?"

Had she no respect for the dead?

"I see no reason to honor a man who hadn't seen a sober day in his life," she told him, crossing her arms, "The useless piece of shit poisoned himself, he did. Like I said, I'm better off without him."

Okita let out a ragged breath. He had no business knowing that much about her. He wasn't even sure he had_ wanted_ to know that much. What he did know, however, was that she was like no woman he had ever seen, met, or heard of. Her thoughts were so far removed from the norm, her words practiced, yet formed from an independent mind. She clearly had no regard for what others thought of her, cursing as she did, and if she was willing to hunt down a pickpocket on her own instead of turning to a man to help her in her plight, he imagined she must be quite capable of many other strange skills.

The idea was terrifying.

"Well," he said quietly. "I am glad that I was able to help you this morning, but I must be going."

"Oh please wait!" she cried, grabbing a fistful of his brilliant blue and white haori as he turned to leave. He turned to her and she released him, stepping back and sending him an apologetic look.

"You're the only kind face I've seen in quite some time," she admitted softly. Okita couldn't imagine why.

"I do wish you the best," he told her, "A woman such as yourself shouldn't have much trouble here at all."

"How can I thank you?" she asked, "for helping me?"

It was then that he _saw_ her. As she licked her bottom lip anxiously, he could see the slightly rapid rise and fall of her chest noting her nervous-perhaps on the verge of panicked-state. Despite her opulent clothing, she wore no adornments in her hair, no rouge on her lips or powder on her face. He saw no jewels, silver, or gold.

Her eyes were wide and he wasn't sure if it was because of fear, or nature. He hoped it was the latter. They were quite pretty. The hair that she tied at the nape of her neck was the color of ink and there was a portion that cascaded down at an angle to frame her slightly tanned face.

She was an interesting sight to behold and Okita wondered just where it was that she came from. He had a thought to ask, but decided against it, not wanting to breach any more social standards than _she_ already had.

"There is no need to thank me," he said with a grin, "meeting you is enough in itself. You're quite unique."

A small dusting of pink erupted on her cheeks then and she opened her mouth to sputter something in retaliation, but a hand on her shoulder halted her thoughts.

"There you are," came a gruff voice. "I've been looking for you."

A tall man turned her body and led her away from the shop she had been standing in front of. She twisted her body slightly, craning her neck to keep eye contact with the man she had been speaking with.

"I'm not hard to find," Okita called out to her, raising his sleeve slightly, noting his colors. He wasn't sure why he had told her that; he knew that a woman like her wouldn't bring anything but trouble into his life, but there had been a small voice inside his head that begged to know more about the strange flamboyant widow.

Shousha looked up at the man who had so quickly ushered her from Okita's side and her face broke out into a grin.

"Shinsaku!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands, "I didn't know you were in Kyoto!"

Takasugi Shinsaku looked down at her with a lopsided grin. "I'm not normally here," he said, pulling her into an abandoned alley, "but it's not everyday a Yamata drinks himself to death now, is it?"

Shousha laughed as they traveled through the winding back roads of the city. "You have no idea how much of a relief it is to be here," she told him, "and now I get to see you!"

"I'll be gone tomorrow," he said in turn, "my business lies at home."

"In Hagi?" she asked.

"Nearby," he replied.

Shousha fell silent, understanding that he had little desire to speak of his duties with her. She didn't mind; she hated talk of war regardless of which side was being supported. She had no wish to enter the world of revolution and even less interest in the politics that surrounded it.

"That man you were speaking with," Takasugi started, "he's trouble. You'll do well to keep away from him."

"Trouble?" she questioned, straightening, "what sort of trouble? I'm trouble too, you know."

Halting, he stared her down, large frame towering over her tiny one. "_Real_ trouble, Shousha. It's best you don't mention your little interlude to your brother. I doubt he would find it amusing."

She steeled her jaw and challenged him with her eyes. In all her years of knowing this man, he had never once tried to dissuade her from anything. Why start now?

"I mean it, Shousha. Keep away from him."

They began to walk again and after a few minutes, Shousha mumbled under her breath.

"He was handsome."

Takasugi's fierce grip on her upper arm told her the conversation was over.

It wasn't long afterwards that they stood before the gate of a modest house set back against the forest. It was a private place, quiet and well kept. The neighbors were farther away than most, but not so far that she would feel in any way isolated.

"Here were are," he said, brandishing out an arm with a flourish.

"It's pretty," she said quietly.

"Smaller than you're used to, I assume."

Shousha shook her head. "I won't miss that big house. I think I'll like this one very much."

He smiled. "I'll leave you then."

"You aren't coming inside?"

"No," he said, "I've got other business to take care of before I leave. Please give my regards to your brother."

She nodded and watched him round the corner before stepping into the courtyard of her new home. Slipping off her geta at the entryway, she stepped up into the house.

"I'm home," she called out shakily. She didn't know why she was nervous. She had sent a request to flee here immediately following her husband's death and he had responded just as quickly, welcoming, no, urging her to find safety in his home. Despite knowing that, it had been six years since she had laid eyes on her elder brother. Six years since she had felt the warmth of his embrace, something he spared for very few.

Six years since she had been in the presence of her best friend.

"Shousha?"

There was the sliding of a door, the footsteps of a man and then, as she dropped her belongings to the floor, he appeared.

"Kogoro!" She cried, launching herself towards him. He caught her with ease, pulling her tightly against him and even though his smile was slight, she knew that he was happy too.

She didn't move for several moments, soaking up the feeling of being so close to him. For the six years she had been married, no one had offered her comfort in her times of trial and tribulation. Kogoro had been away fighting his war and she had no friends to speak of. No friends that her husband had allowed her to see. The letters he sent were the only solace she had. Those letters, the words that she had read over and over again each day, seemed so paltry in comparison to his presence.

"Your journey was comfortable?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.

"It was awful," she pouted.

"Of course it was," he replied affectionately. "I can't imagine you sitting still for more than half an hour."

She nodded in agreement and he observed her silently. While it was often said that Katsura Kogoro was a ruthless man, a revolutionary to be reckoned with (and he wouldn't argue with any of these claims), it was also said by those (generally female) who knew him on a personal level that he was a kind and gentle sort of man, calm and reserved. No one knew this to be truer than his younger sister.

She had grown, he observed. Not physically; she was doomed to a small frame forever, but her face was different. She was as haughty and defiant as she had been growing up, but there was something new there.

A mask.

He supposed a bad marriage would do that to a woman. He wouldn't know personally as their parents had been agreeable with each other and he had yet to marry. He had suspected that she might be hiding something from him when the tone of her missives became less jovial and more absent, blank, and slightly cryptic. His suspicions rose considerably when she practically begged to live with him.

Truthfully, he hadn't wanted her to come. It wasn't because he didn't want to see her. There was no being, dead or alive, that he missed more than his sister. He didn't want her in Kyoto for fear of what might happen to her. Of all the men sought after for execution, he was the most desired. Anyone connected to him was in immediate danger at every hour.

Against his better judgement, he had agreed to let her come. There was a feeling in his gut that told him she needed him. She had admitted it, but there was something she wasn't telling him, a secret she had yet to reveal.

"Look at me, Shousha," he instructed.

With a smile, she turned to him, having been taking in the modest house. He caught her chin gently, looking at her face intensely before turning her head to one side, then the other.

"Kogoro, what are you doing?" she asked, furrowing her brows as he tilted her chin upwards.

"Looking," he murmured.

"Looking at what?" she asked. He released her face and laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly before using his thumbs to put pressure on her collarbone.

"Looking _for_," he amended.

"Looking for wha- ow!"

With a pained yelp, Shousha slapped his hand away from where it had been on her back, just under her left shoulder blade.

"That _hurt_ Kogoro!"

He had been right. "Sit," he ordered, tying back his sleeves.

"Why?" she challenged, resisting the urge to pat the stinging sensation on her back.

"_Sit_."

She did as she was told, crossing her arms and steeling her jaw. Some reunion. She hadn't been in his home for more than fifteen minutes and he had turned the mood sour. As much as she loved him, she wasn't fond of his ability to do that.

He knelt behind her and before she could stop him, he gripped her collar gently and began to peel her kimono from her body.

"Kogoro what are you _doing_?" she screeched, desperately scrambling to cover herself. A calming hand on her shoulder kept her rooted to the floor and when she felt the silk pool around her waist, she bit down on her lip. drawing blood.

There was a layer of bandages wrapped around her torso. She wasn't athletic. A woman of her standing had no reason binding her breasts and he knew that. He also knew that it wasn't her breasts that she was binding. She squeezed her eyes tight while he undid the knot and unwound her wrappings.

A curse slipped through his lips and he pulled back his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

"I thought I could handle it myself," she replied shakily, trembling.

Katsura stared at the sight before him, his baby sister's back marred by welts and scars. Most of them had healed over and would soon become nothing more than an imperfection on her once soft skin. Just below her shoulders, however, was a giant mass of blisters, surrounded by a layer of dried blood. He knew this wound.

Regret washed over him. He had made the match between Shousha and Yamata Mori. Mori had been a man of status. It seemed only right that he give his sister away to a man who could forever keep her living comfortably. But Katsura had only been twenty-two when he had agreed to the union. He was young, and he was naive. The next year they had married and he had left Hagi under the assumption that he had done good.

There were men that drank. There were men that beat their wives. There were men that did both. It was well known. Katsura had no doubt that if Mori had been the type of man to simply _beat_ a woman, Shousha would have been able to hold her own. As children he had taught her how to throw, and perfect, a series of punches should she ever feel the need to protect herself from such a situation.

He had not been able to teach her to defend herself against hot wax.

"I'll change these," he said softly, rising to get the appropriate materials for tending to her wounds.

When he returned, Shousha struck conversation.

"What is Kyoto like?" she asked, being sure to keep cheer in her voice. He husband was dead and she was with Kogoro now. Nothing could hurt her.

"It's dangerous," he told her truthfully as he began to clean the burns, "but there are many wonderful things to see. The festivals are particularly exciting."

"Will I be able to explore?"

"If you are careful. You must be very careful at all times, Shousha. Simply uttering my name could be your death sentence."

She swallowed hard. "But I thought you said you were in the favor of the people."

Katsura nodded even though she couldn't see. "We are, but we cannot afford to be so arrogant as to assume we can trust anyone."

She didn't say anything as he began bandaging her up again, wrapping the soft cotton around her body. She flinched every time the cloth touched her, but was thankful for his gentle touch, much unlike the harsh, scolding treatment the servants of Yamata House had given her.

He pulled her kimono back up over her shoulders and gave her obi a small straightening.

"There's something you need to know before you step foot out of this house," he said, arranging the basket of medical supplies. "The Shinsengumi control this city. They seem to think they are the law and all those who defy them suffer greatly."

Shousha tilted her head. "The Shinsengumi?"

"The men in blue," he clarified. "If you see them Shousha, _hide_. They will not spare you simply because you are a woman. They are our greatest and most dangerous enemy here. "

Okita's face flashed through her mind then, that cheery boyish grin tugging at the blue of his haori. Surely he couldn't have meant him.

"Are they really so terrifying?" she asked.

For a moment, Katsura's eyes flashed, but then they softened again and he put two hands on her upper arms. "_Hide_, Shousha. I have lost many to the Miburo. I won't lose you too."

She nodded then, because she couldn't think of any other way to respond.

xxxx

**Author's Note:** Yikes, that was sort of a heavy beginning. Let me just say that is is _weird _writing from a Choshu standpoint. It is even weirder writing Katsura as a doting brother. It was also weird writing Takasugi at all because I always sort of think of him as "that other guy with tuberculosis". I always wanted to use him somewhere, but don't have enough of a feel for him as a character, so I don't. He probably won't be back for that reason.

Thanks for reading; hope to hear from you soon! :D


	2. A Strange Feeling

**Author's Note: **I think I am also most fond of brother!Katsura as I have an affinity for close brother/sister relationships. They make me feel warm and fuzzy. :3 (that's because I always wanted an older brother, but as the oldest child, I don't get to have one :( poo.)

Also, I'm not going to beat around the bush and make you all wait 20 or so chapters for romance. These two are going to fall quickly. Hard. Enjoy :D

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 02**

"Someone's dreaming again."

Okita's face slipped from his hand as his body jolted in shock at the smooth voice behind him. He looked down at the paperwork he had been attempting to work on and much to his dismay, found that his hand had drifted off with his mind and there was an unattractive smudge across the page.

He sighed, "I wasn't dreaming, Harada-san. I was thinking."

Harada Sanosuke plopped himself down beside his small friend and raised his eyebrows towards the stack of unsorted and unread missives. "You're hardly ever distracted. What's going on?"

It had been exactly nine days and three hours since he had stopped the street urchin and crossed paths with Yamata Shousha. Despite his determination to carry on as normal, he couldn't shake her from his mind.

"It doesn't matter," he said, twisting his torso this way and that, seemingly looking for something.

"Whatcha lookin' for?"

"My tea," he murmured. "I could have sworn I brought it over here."

"You didn't," Harada told him, pointing a lazy finger behind him, "It's over there by the window."

Okita's head snapped to his rooster haired friend. "The widow is here?"

At first, Harada looked surprised. Then his brows furrowed in confusion. Lastly, a toothy grin broke out and he leaned over to ruffle the other man's hair.

"A _widow_, eh? So it's a woman on your mind!"

Pursing his lips, Okita crossed his arms and looked away. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, pouting slightly.

"Well she must be something," Harada surmised, leaning back on his palms. "You've been glossy eyed since early last week. Though I never really took you for the widow type of guy."

"She's not an_ old_ widow, Harada-san," Okita told him with a huff. He regretted his admission as soon as he voiced it as it earned him another hair ruffle.

"I was right! You _are_ philandering."

"I'm _curious_," he corrected.

Harada made an impatient gesture with his hand and Okita sighed. He might as well tell _someone_ about her. Though, telling Harada anything about dealings with women in confidence was nearly the same as gathering everyone in the town square and making an announcement.

Still, he supposed it didn't matter. It wasn't likely that he would see her again. He had thought he might happen upon her again at the marketplace, but he hadn't. He had told her that he was easy to find and if her clothing that day was any indication of her style of dress, she wouldn't be either.

Perhaps that brother of hers was controlling and kept her locked away in a house somewhere. It had been clear that she came from a well-to-do family. Perhaps the servants ran to market for her. Considering her forceful nature, he rather doubted both.

"I only spoke to her for a few moments," he admitted, shooting his friend a dirty look as the man made a show of making himself comfortable. "But she. . ."

"She must be gorgeous," Harada interrupted, "any broad that can keep _you_ distracted for a week has got to be a goddess."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Okita asked, slightly offended.

Harada shrugged, "I just mean that you're very dedicated to your work, that's all."

"She's not pretty," he shot back, continuing on with his story, "well, she is, but not in a normal way. Shes-"

"Exotic?"

"_Unusual_. She's more cute than pretty, I'd say. And she's small. Like a little boy."

Harada snorted. "A boy, Okita? Is there something you're not telling us?" This earned him a flat look and he laughed, "alright, alright. I'm sorry. Go on."

"She's here living with her brother," he continued, carefully watching for any hint that he may be interrupted again, "and if what I gathered is correct, her husband drank himself to death. She seemed quite happy about that."

"What's so unusual about that? I know plenty of women who would be more than happy to send their husbands to the grave."

"It's not that," Okita said thoughtfully, "It's just her. . .her _nature_ that I find puzzling. She dresses like a maiden, curses like a man, and has no regard for personal space."

Harada let out a howl of laughter. "That's no puzzle, Okita! Sounds to me like you're talking about Takagi. Better watch it, yanno. Saitou will have your head."

A smile broke out on Okita's face then. Takagi Tokio, a young woman whose father was heavily involved with the support of the Shinsengumi, was, in fact, quite a force to be reckoned with. She had grown up with Harada and Okita and they easily considered her one of their closest friends. Okita's absolute _best_ friend, Saitou Hajime, completed their foursome and though he displayed a consistently humorous distaste for the wild female, it was well known that the feelings he truly harbored for her were soft and sentimental.

"I'm sure if the two ever met they would quickly become inseparable," Okita admitted.

Harada put a hand to his forehead and shook his head, "Please don't let that happen."

"It won't," he assured his friend as he began to stack the papers before him. Work would have to wait. His kendo students were about to arrive. "I don't even know where to find her."

"Well," said Harada, standing and giving a wink, "if she's an unusual girl, look in some place unusual."

xxxx

Crouched in an alleyway between two large ceramic jars, containing what smelled like death, Shousha was counting her money. Errands seemed to take three times as long as they should have in this city. Kogoro was right. The Shinsengumi were everywhere. They paraded around the city, hands resting on the hilts of their swords and chins raised high as if they held any importance at all.

They probably did.

Shousha wasn't entirely sure what she thought of the men the townsfolk called Miburo. _Wolves_. Some of them certainly looked wolfish and menacing, but there were others, she noticed, that didn't look so bad and some even, that often looked bored (one man in particular with spiky, feather-like hair).

She did as her brother had instructed, however, because since she didn't know what to make of the Shinsengumi, she wasn't about to take any chances before she did.

There was one member of the police force that she hadn't seen, and that was her cheery hero. He was the reason she examined them while she hid in the dirty, and often times disgusting alleyways. She wanted to see him again, that kind sweet face with a nervous smile. That smile wasn't always so nervous, she knew that. _She_ had made him uneasy and for that she wanted to apologize.

Seeing him and speaking with him were two entirely different actions and as she was certain Kogoro would not approve of the former, she was hesitant to wish for the latter. She had no interest in politics, but she had even less of a desire to put her dear brother in a deadly position.

"Am I interrupting?"

Caught by surprise, Shousha let out a scream and the coins in her hand flew into the air. When her eyes adjusted to the form crouching to level his eyes with her, she screamed again and stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the giant pots by her side.

Okita stood, catching the falling currency with ease and giving her a smile as he handed her back her coins.

"Now what did I tell you about keeping your money safe?"

Finding her in this back alley was pure luck, that much he was certain of. He couldn't help but chuckle inwardly though. Look in a strange place and there she would be. Indeed. He had ducked back here with the intent to relieve himself, but suddenly his bladder had quieted and he imagined he could hold off for just a few more minutes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, snatching back the money.

"I thought I would see you sooner than this," he told her, avoiding the question.

"Did you follow me?"

There was a strange look in her eyes, he noted. It was different from the first day. She seemed. . .afraid.

"I didn't intend to find you here, but now that I have, I suppose I can collect your debt," he said cheerily.

Shousha's face fell. What if Kogoro was right and he was a merciless brute hiding behind a gentle mask? It could happen. Anything could happen.

"You said I owed you nothing," she said, lifting her head. "but if it's money you want, take it."

To that, Okita laughed. "If it was your money I wanted, madam, I wouldn't keep returning it to you."

Well he had her there. "Then what do you want?"

"Your company?" he suggested.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Shousha drew back nervously. "Though I may be widowed, I have _no_ intentions of giving myself up so freely!"

Eyes wide, he held up his hands. "Oh no," he said with a small chuckle, "I meant perhaps you would walk with me? It's a beautiful day and I find myself with a bit of free time. You intrigue me and quite honestly, I'd like to figure you out."

Stunned, she stared at him. No man had ever asked for the pleasure of her company before. No man had ever been intrigued by her.

"Though," he went on, "if you wouldn't mind waiting for me out on the street."

"Why?"

He gave a small cough and shifted uncomfortably. "I must answer the call of nature."

"Oh-_oh!"_ she cried, nodding. "Of course."

Out on the street, Shousha leaned up against a wall and wondered what the hell she was doing waiting for him. She had hid, as she had been told, yet she had been found. Had he been lying? Did he know who she was? _Had_ he sought her out? No, he mustn't have known. She doubted he would have spared her if he did.

She bit down on her bottom lip and contemplated her choices. She knew what she should do. She should run. Ducking into a different alley and zig zagging her way back home was the only way she knew she would be safe. She wouldn't tell Kogoro about this and she would be extra careful to never let it happen again.

Or she could stay. She wanted to stay.

He had told her that he wanted to figure her out. To understand her. She held a similar curiosity. Shousha was not an obedient woman. Though she had been told to stay away, none of the Miburo had ever given her a reason to personally dislike them. She didn't have a very fair assessment of the group as she had only met one of them, and only briefly. That was why she had to know. She had to judge for herself whether or not to be afraid.

How much could it hurt? It was just a walk. She would be careful with her speech and if he gave any indication that he might mean her harm, she would simply bash his nose in. No, no she wouldn't. She knew she wouldn't be able to. He had been searching for her just as she had been keeping her eyes peeled for him. She didn't believe much in fate or destiny, but she also had no other word to describe this pull.

"Shall we go?"

Shousha turned to him, standing there in his uniform, smiling as if he hadn't a care in the world. How could he be dangerous?

"I'm not supposed to be talking to you," she told him softly, still chewing on her lip, "my brother has forbidden me from coming into contact with any of you."

Okita raised a brow. "Yet here you are." She had waited. She hadn't run off.

"Here I am," she confirmed.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Okita held up one finger with a grin and shrugged off his haori, folding it, and placing it beneath a display of pottery. Clapping his hands lightly together, he offered her his arm.

"Now he will not know."

Surprised and touched by his efforts to keep their meeting a secret, Shousha allowed her hand to fall on his elbow. He nodded happily and the two began to walk through the busy streets of the city.

"My name is Soushi," he told her after they broke free from a crowd of shoppers, "Okita Soushi. You may call me however you like."

For a second, she hesitated, but for all of her brother's warnings, turned to the man beside her and smiled at him. "Yamata Shousha. Shousha is just fine. I don't care for formalities."

"Alright then, Shou-chan," he replied, relishing in the confused shock that spread across her face as he addressed her in such an affectionate way, "shall we head to the river?"

She couldn't do anything but nod. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly, threatening to break free. Her knees shook and her head was becoming light and filling itself with ridiculous notions. Never had she felt this way. No man had ever elicited such a reaction from her, but she knew what it was; she had read about it, and she had dreamed about it.

_Infatuation_.

It fell upon her like a stone wall crumbling into the sea. The gentle touch of his calloused hands, the way his boyish smile lit up his warm brown eyes, his light, yet firm voice that spoke words she hardly registered. She hadn't known him more than thirty minutes and she was quite certain that if they parted forever at that very second, she would pine for him for the rest of her days.

"So your brother doesn't approve of the Shinsengumi, I take it."

Okita's joking tone brought her from her thoughts and she sighed. "No, he doesn't. He's afraid for my sake, more than anything. He's afraid that I might be hurt."

"Hurt by whom?"

She shrugged, taking a seat on the grass of the riverbank. "Any of you, I suppose. He's not in support of your cause so that makes me guilty by association."

He brought himself down to sit by her side, forearms on his raised knees, looking out at the water. "And you? Who are you in support of?"

He desperately hoped she opposed this brother of hers. Every second he spent in her presence he was beginning to like her more and more. Her devil may care attitude was so incredibly freeing.

"No one," she said truthfully. "I think that the entire game you are all playing is childish and stupid. To live by a_ sword_, to give your life, to take a life. For what? So those you leave behind can mourn for the rest of their days?"

"Did you lose someone important to you, Shou-chan?" he asked carefully.

"No," she told him, looking up to the sky, "but it's a fear I live with every day."

Okita smiled sadly, "It is a fear we all live with, I'm afraid."

Furrowing her brow, she looked at him bitterly. "And you still fight."

"I'm fighting for-"

"Don't try to justify your bloodshed!" she snapped, "because I don't care."

He shrunk back slightly. She seemed quite adamant to remain neutral and while he admired her for that, he also knew that because of this, she was ignorant of the reality that was the war around them. That ignorance alone could cause her great harm if she wasn't careful.

He watched the irritation on her face fade to sadness and before long, the corners of her lips upturned slightly. What a scary and emotional woman, this Yamata Shousha.

"I've been thinking about you, Okita Soushi," she said quietly, a new batch of flutters erupting in her belly, testing out the feel of his name on her lips.

"Thinking about me?" he asked, laughing, "but we've only just met."

"I know," she replied, "but it's just as I said last week: You are the only kind face I've seen in quite some time. I wanted to thank you for that."

"Well," he said, scooting just a bit closer to her, "I try to show as much kindness as I can. I do have a reputation to repair."

"Repair?" she echoed.

"The skin of a wolf is not an easy one to shed," he sighed.

"But I thought you were a warrior," she said, furrowing her brows and looking at him inquisitively, "isn't being feared desirable?"

"Please do not misunderstand, Shou-chan," he told her, eyes becoming solemn as he laid a hand on her arm, "I take the utmost pride in what I fight for. I believe in it with all my heart and as you said, I would willingly lay down my life for it. Being viewed as a monster, however, is_ not _something I take pride in."

Shousha lowered her eyes. "It's that bad? You are an intimidating group. I didn't think people would object to you so openly."

"They don't," Okita said, looking back out at the river, "it's rare that someone makes a scene, but we hear the whispers and the gossip."

"And you just sit back and take it?" she asked, appalled.

He laughed softly and gave her arm a small squeeze. "Our job here is to keep the peace, not disrupt it."

She scoffed and sat back on her elbows. "Well you're not doing a very good job. The city is a mess."

"You can blame Katsura for that," he told her, pulling up a fistful of grass and tossing it into the air, watching it rain on them like confetti, "he's got everyone in a tizzy with all of his _ridiculous_ ideals."

Heart racing, Shousha stared up at the sun. If she blinded herself perhaps he wouldn't be able to read her expression. She hadn't flinched, had she? Gasped, curled her lip, or anything else that might have, no matter how subtle, given her away?

"Just because someone's ideals are different than yours doesn't make them ridiculous," she told him, shielding her eyes and forcing all of the defensiveness out of her voice. She didn't support the imperialists, but she did support her family and Okita was speaking out against her brother _personally_.

Okita watched her, laying in the grass, speaking so calmly on such a harsh subject. The way she spoke so plainly, as if it were obvious that men were fools, made him think that perhaps they should start confronting women about political problems. Perhaps then disagreements could be solved without violence.

"I should go," she said after a while. "I didn't expect to be gone this long. If I'm not home before my brother, he'll be unhappy. I'd rather not deal with that."

Okita's eyes widened and he wondered how much harm he might have caused, coaxing her to disobey her sibling. "Will you be alright? He won't hurt you, will he?"

Sitting up, Shousha let out a burst of laughter. "Oh no, of course not," she said, pulling the ribbon from her hair. As it fell down her back, he noticed it was straighter than a pin, if that were possible.

"He loves me," she told him, pulling the locks over her shoulder and beginning to fashion them into a braid, "He's only strict because he worries." with a small grin and a wink, she leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. "He punishes by lecture."

Relieved, Okita's smile returned and he stood, offering her his hand, "Then for fear of you being lectured to death, perhaps we should end our outing."

She let out a giggle and took his hold, allowing him to pull her gently to her feet.

"Will I see you again?" she asked, biting on her lip once more. She shouldn't have asked, and she shouldn't have wanted to meet with him again, but she had to. He didn't treat her like just _some woman_, nor was he put off by her sometimes abrasive behavior. He listened to her and he took in what she had to say. He had sat by her side with ease.

And he was still holding her hand.

"If that is what you wish," he said softly. "I will wait for you here tomorrow."

"No," she said, shaking her head slightly, "in three days. Meet me here in three days."

If she remembered correctly, Kogoro would be headed out of the city to meet with Takasugi for several days. She wouldn't have to be as stingy with her time.

Okita's heart fluttered. It was a strange feeling. Since he was a child, he had spent his days training to become the man, the weapon he was today. He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of small crushes or summer romances as a boy and even now he never found himself emotionally attached to any of the women he had been with.

He wasn't sure why he was so excited about the thought of meeting her again. Perhaps it was because he was aiding in disobedience, something he had never done, and never encouraged, but at this moment it was exhilarating. Maybe it was because his life was so scheduled, so predictable, that he wanted something different to look forward to. Or perhaps it was simply her.

She was free. She was independent, confident, and determined that no one would change her. He could grow accustomed to someone like her.

"Three days," he repeated. "I'll be here."

Shousha smiled lightly, then looked down at their hands, still clasped together. She cleared her throat and he released her, swallowing awkwardly.

"Until then," she said.

"Yes, until then."

She turned and headed towards the bridge, climbing up the hill that lead to it before waking quickly over the wooden planks. Once she was absolutely certain she was no longer in his sight, she allowed a giant grin to break out on her face and she _ran_. She had to run. It was the only way she would be able to control the energy that was pulsing through her body. She had to control it by releasing it and she had to release it because she couldn't control it.

She was giddy. She hadn't been giddy since she was eight or so, when her very first crush (whatever his name was) had given her a chaste kiss on her cheek. Back then she was convinced they would marry. They hadn't, of course, but a month after the kiss he had decided she was akin to a toad. They would never have lasted, she decided, and moved on.

Coming up to the gate, she placed her hands on the wall and steadied her breathing. Exerting oneself was wonderfully refreshing _during, _but the aftermath was quite painful for someone who very rarely did anything that could be called 'exercise'.

When she entered the house, she was still smiling, and Katsura was seated on the porch, reading.

"Good afternoon, brother," she greeted him, coming up behind him and leaning over to kiss his cheek before hopping back down onto the ground to tend to the clothes she had hung out to dry that morning.

Stunned, Katsura dropped his book and raised a suspicious hand to touch the spot on his face that had just been graced by affection.

"Are you alright, Shousha?"

"Today I am very well," she said, reaching up to pull the laundry down.

"I can see that," he replied, watching her amusedly as she tried to force her face down to a milder expression, "why might that be?"

"Because," she started, holding up one of his kimono and scowling as she noticed a hole near the shoulder. She thrust it towards him, shaking it scoldingly before his eyes.

"_Because?_"

"Because you are my favourite brother," she said, folding the kimono and setting it into the basket at her feet.

He let out a small laugh and picked up his book, "I am your only brother, Shousha."

"Yes," she replied, "and that is why you are my favourite."

xxxx


	3. A Motley Crew

**Author's Note: **I forgot to mention something. We will also be enjoying some Saitou/Tokio romance here as well.

I mean come on. I can't _not._

Also, to spice things up, it'll be a love (er, affection? interest?) triangle. :O Fun fun! Any guesses as to who the third party will be? (Though I won't tell you if you are right or wrong; you'll have to read and see)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 03**

Saitou Hajime was not normally a tolerant man.

He enjoyed nothing more than the simple pleasures of silence, respect, and a gentle woman by his side, tending to his every need. Due to his motley crew of friends, however, none of these were often obtained.

First, there was Okita. He liked Okita. Everyone liked Okita. They had been, as it was retold by Okita's doting mother, inseparable since birth. Where Hajime went, Soushi followed, and where Soushi went, Hajime trudged along after him.

Saitou internally debated the truth of these stories, as he had very little recollection of his younger days. What he did know, was that he didn't remember a time when they were not friends.

Okita was a good friend, and a good man, having been raised by a well off and very respectable family. He worked hard, followed traditions, and was kind to those around him. A little _too_ kind in Saitou's opinion. He also had a nasty habit of voicing whatever thought came to mind without first considering the consequences of his words.

Because of Okita's ever present benevolence, Harada Sanosuke soon made their pair a trio. Saitou still wasn't sure what he thought of Harada. The rooster haired fellow was _loud. _He had grown from a cocky know-it-all to a philandering jokester, rarely ever taking himself seriously and rumpling all the bed sheets of ladies both married and not.

One day, the idiot had even attempted to commit seppuku just to prove that he knew how. Whether he had known or not didn't matter. Despite Okita's persistent protests, he had drawn his sword right there on the street.

It was on that day, that Saitou decided Harada to be more of a nuisance than a friend. What sort of man allows himself to be taunted into death just to prove a point? But Okita and Harada had grown close and for the sake of his best friend, Saitou managed to tolerate the womanizing fool.

It wasn't to say that Saitou didn't _respect_ Harada. He did. There was no man he knew more powerful with a spear in battle. Harada was also trusted by their vice commander, Hijikata Toshizo, their relationship going so far that many wondered if they might have been brothers. Saitou couldn't ignore that.

Lastly, there was Takagi Tokio.

She had been the last addition to their group and not by Okita's wishes, but her own. Her father, Takagi Kojuro was involved with the support of the Shinsengumi _financially_ and that was something she never let them forget.

Aside from flaunting her 'right' to be in their company, Tokio was loud, sarcastic, rude, and thought herself to be _equal_ with the rest of them. Equal, really.

Tokio's acceptance into their circle had come on a chilly autumn day when she was eight years old. With her father, she had been frequently visiting the dojo where they all lived and though none of them had ever paid her much attention, they knew who she was and that she was to be treated as a lady.

At this time, the trio were relatively fresh into their pubescent years, each of them coming into manhood in their own way. It was a strange time for them, when girls were still repulsive, but then sometimes, they weren't so much.

Harada had blossomed quickly. One day he had been tossing rocks at the females in the street and the next they had found him sneaking in through the back door of a farmer's house with intent to have a bit of fun with his daughter. That hadn't ended well, they all fondly recalled.

Saitou himself had begun to feel the teasing pull of lust whenever a certain perfume wafted in the air or when he caught sight of rouged lips. A few coins gave him the opportunity to fully understand this feeling and after realizing its wonder, he also recognized the power that it could potentially hold over him. Knowing this, he learned to control it.

Okita, happily focused on his training, little prodigy that he was, had also grown to appreciate the beauty of the fairer sex. That, however, for quite some time, was as far as his hormones took him. _Gentle appreciation._ Always polite, always proper.

Though she was young, Takagi Tokio was quickly blooming into a radiant flower herself. She was six years younger than they were, but with unusual ebon curls and large, curious grey eyes, she was a rare treasure. The three future captains regarded this without much thought as she was just a child, but for some of their peers, age was hardly of consequence.

When she had been lured away from her father's side, it had been Okita that stopped the band of young trouble makers from laying hands on her, but when she had darted from the scene in fear and taken off into the streets, it was Saitou who had followed after her.

She wasn't faster than he was, but her movements were unpredictable. After a long chase, they found themselves on a foot bridge, the river rushing beneath them.

"Don't!" she cried, taking a step back.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you dumb girl!" he had bitten off in response. "now get over here so I can take you back."

But she didn't. Terrified of what he might do, she took another step. When he reached out to pull her away from the edge, she screamed and scrambled back. The bridge, made of stone and meant only for the leisurely passing of pedestrians, had no rail and the small daughter of the wealthy retainer tumbled into the furious water below.

Irritated, but knowing that he couldn't let the girl die, Saitou jumped in after her. She was, after all, the daughter of a wealthy retainer. Kondo had a made a point of making sure that Takagi Kojuro kept him in his good graces.

When he finally pulled her from the water, he slapped her on the back and she coughed up a mouthful of water.

"You idiot," he hissed, "you should listen to a man when he gives you an order. You could have died."

Unfazed, Tokio looked up at him, challenging him. "How dare you speak to a lady in such a fashion!"

Hand gripping her elbow, Saitou pulled her away from the water and back towards the dojo. This would not be fun to explain.

"You are not a lady," he snapped, "you're a little girl."

She had huffed in response, but while he walked her back, her hand gripped his hakama fiercely and she kept herself close to his side.

Upon seeing his daughter in such a state, Takagi Kojuro began to fume. Generally he was an agreeable man, jovial and not likely to reprimand without necessity. He had no heir to speak of and while most men would lament over this fact, Takagi didn't seem to mind. Tokio was his only child, his only daughter, and she was his _gem._ No greater offense could be done to Takagi than to wrong his precious Tokio. To see her returning sopping wet with a teenage boy equally as drenched when neither of them had permission to leave was a great wrong indeed.

"What have you _done_?" he bellowed.

Saitou remained silent. He knew that any defense he attempted would be refuted. _Tokio? Run away? Don't be ridiculous boy!_ Of course not. She could do no wrong.

"Papa!" she cried, hurrying over to her favourite parent and hugging his legs tightly, "This boy _saved_ me!"

Next to Takagi stood Kondo Isami, the master of the dojo, and Hijikata Toshizo, a peer of Saitou's, though his stoic and demonic ways had earned their way into the seat next to Kondo. None of the men before him were men worth crossing and the latter two looked as if they might have been feeling just that way.

As he explained to them what had happened, they deemed him a hero for the time being and he was spared. Takagi, however, was not quite through with him.

Tokio was young, impressionable, and vulnerable. He knew that while he attended business in the city, he could not keep an eye on her at all times. As she did as she pleased (because he hadn't the heart to deny her anything), Takagi saw fit to appoint Saitou as her personal bodyguard.

Babysitter.

That was what he had become. He didn't like the idea, but he also couldn't refuse. He thought it might have been easy: set her in a room with watercolors and he could read while she entertained herself. Except, Tokio had no interest in watercolors. She also didn't have any interest in anything her father was discussing with him because once he was dismissed, she was already gone.

He found her in the courtyard, giggling with Okita as Harada made a terrible attempt at juggling a few stones.

"Takagi-san," Saitou said, clearing his throat at her and cringing at having to address her so formally. "You should find something productive to do."

"Don't tell _me_ what I should be doing," she snorted, "you're not my father."

He gave her a strained look of patience and she put her teenie hands on her hips.

"Besides," she continued, "these are my friends."

"They are _my_ friends," he ground out, not quite having lost all of his childish petulance.

A smile lit up on her face then and though he knew she would be the very bane of his existence, he was willing to admit that she was quite a cute kid. She'd make some lucky sap a happy husband once she was grown.

"Now they are _our_ friends!" she exclaimed loudly, bouncing over to him and dragging him towards where they were playing, "and we will all be best friends forever."

And so it had been that Takagi Tokio had latched herself onto them and as they grew older and more accustomed to her presence, they, Saitou (reluctantly) included, found it difficult to imagine life without her. Upon the rise of the Shinsengumi, she, along with her parents, moved from their home in Aizu, to a smaller, yet still quite grand, home in Kyoto, allowing her to spend much of her time with her favourite companions.

That was why, when Okita slid open the doors to living area, she was kneeling behind Saitou, using his shoulders as support for her elbows as she leaned forward to place he marker on the _go_ board.

It was really Saitou who was playing opposite Harada, but as usual, Tokio had come between them, insisting to be a part of it. Years ago he had tried to squash this personality trait by reprimanding, but eventually, he learned to simply ignore it.

"Hey! Sou's back!" She cried out, digging her elbow into Saitou's neck slightly in her excitement, "and he looks..."

"Smug."

Harada twisted his head around to see just what Saitou and Tokio were on about. Okita did look strange. Not in a strange way, if that made any sense, but he had a rather unusual smile plastered on his face, one much different from his pleasant default expression. When he joined his three friends and took in their suspicious stares, the smile faded.

"Is something wrong?"

Harada narrowed his eyes, leaning closely to observe his small friend. After what seemed like an eternity, he sat back and turned to the pair opposite him.

"He has been bitten," he announced.

Saitou raised an eyebrow. "Bitten."

"Yes, by the widow."

Tokio gasped, hugging Saitou around the neck and leaning forward. "Bitten by a black widow? Have you seen a doctor?"

"Not a widow _spider_, Takagi," Harada sighed, giving her forehead a light flick, "the widow from the marketplace. It seems that our pal here has finally seen her again and now he's got the bug."

Okita shifted in his place, wondering just what his friends were all talking about. "What bug?"

After considering it for a moment, the implications clicked in Tokio's mind and she let a mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Sou's found himself a girl!" she sighed, pressing her cheek against her caretaker's. "Oh, Hajime isn't that romantic?"

Nudging the female from his back with his elbows, Saitou stood. "So that's what all this nonsense has been about? I thought better of you, Okita."

To this, Okita laughed, "Don't be silly Saitou-san. I hardly know her."

"Well if you ask me, I think it's wonderful," Tokio said, making excited gestures in the air, not bothered at all by having been unceremoniously deposited onto the floor.

"No one did ask you," Harada pointed out, earning him an annoyed look from Saitou. He rolled his eyes at this, sitting back on his palms. Their angular comrade was funny that way. For all the berating and down talking he did to her, if anyone else were to even come near insulting Tokio, there were very sharp, yet very subtle claws that emerged. Harada had learned to ignore them, as his words were always in jest.

Refusing to acknowledge either of the two men, Saitou looked down at Tokio.

"It's time for you to go home," he said gruffly, "let's be on our way."

Tokio was funny too. As much as she claimed independence and equality, all Saitou need do was look at her and she was clay in his hands. Or, she could have been, if he had realized this. Everybody knew why these two acted as they did, having been together for so long, but the pair themselves had yet to recognize the affection that had grown between them.

"Will you be eating with us tonight?" she asked as she followed him out, hurrying after his long stride.

"No," he replied, "I have patrol."

"You always have patrol," she pouted, jabbing her fist into his lower back a few petulant times.

As their voices faded, Okita laughed softly.

"They'll never change," he said, eyes glimmering with delight as he took up Saitou and Tokio's spot before the game board. Looking at it, his face fell slight. "Oh, it seems that I'm losing."

"Nah," Harada said with a wave of his hand, "I've been cheating. Never was any good at this game."

Okita chuckled at that and began to remove the markers from the board and put them back where they belonged.

"I did find her," he said, "she was hiding in an alley."

Harada sat up. "_Hiding_?"

"Well, perhaps not hiding, but she certainly didn't seem too keen on being found."

"Did you get her name?"

Unable to resist the smile that turned up the corner of his lips, Okita pushed the game aside. "I spent nearly an hour with her."

Surprised, the other man leaned forward, desperate for the gossip. "You're not serious."

"I am," he replied, nodding.

"So what did you find out?"

"Well," Okita began, giving his hair a light tug to tighten it, "her name is Yamata Shousha, she has one brother who does not look kindly upon us, and _she_ finds both us and the Choshu equally as repulsive, or so I gathered."

Harada considered this for a moment. "And you are..happy about this?"

It did sound ridiculous, he realized, the way he had worded his findings, but in his excitement, he hadn't really thought it through.

"What I meant is that she is opposed to war of any kind. It's a naive point of view, but a refreshing one."

Harada nodded. "I guess it would be nice to talk to someone who doesn't have a bias one way or the other, huh?"

Okita let out a breath. "Yes. It was."

"So, you gonna see her again?"

"In three days," he replied, almost immediately.

"That'll give you enough time, then."

Okita let out a small 'hmm' of agreement. He would have to do as much digging on this Yamata Shousha as he could. He was a good judge of character; he knew how to read people and what to look for, but they couldn't be too careful. He would find out about the Yamata family, find out whether or not she truly _was_ neutral, and more importantly, just who her brother was.

He knew that if he was going to continue to meet with her, he would be playing with fire. She held dear a brother opposed to the Shogunate. The only question was: Was his opposition personal, or public?

xxxx

"You've been very cheery these past few days."

It was just after breakfast and Katsura was, as usual, sitting on the porch, reading one of his many letters. There was always correspondence. It was never good news. Shousha was laying perpendicular to him, her head resting in his lap, making various animal shapes with her hands.

"I feel safe here," she replied happily, "everything is finally beginning to sink in."

"You feel safe?" he asked, moving the paper aside so he could look down at her face. "I don't think I have to remind you of the danger we are in."

Closing her eyes, she smiled. "I don't fear those wolves."

"You should," he said sternly, returning to his missive, "they will kill you."

"I'm not afraid of death, Kogoro. If they want to kill me they can. Killing me won't give them you."

"There are worse fates than death, Shousha."

At this she stiffened and he regretted the implications of torture he had presented to her.

"Just be careful," he added softly.

"I am careful," she told him. "and if I ever happen to come across one of them, I _promise_ he will not know who I am."

"I'm nervous to leave you alone. I think you should come with me."

Shousha snorted. "You want me to go with you to look at a bunch of sweaty men? I'd rather go to the meat market."

He laughed at her. He should have known better than to suggest she accompany him to anything that involved his mission. He had plans to meet with Takasugi and his Kiheitai, Takasugi having been rather vague in mentioning that there was someone that might be of particular interest to Katsura. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he knew his sister enough to know that taking her would only bring headaches.

Once he was dressed for traveling, he stood at the gate, allowing her to adjust his hat and pat some invisible dust off his lapels.

"Come back home in one piece," she warned, "or I will tear you to shreds."

He smiled at her and patted the top of her head affectionately. "I'm not going into battle, little sister. I am visiting a friend."

She grinned, waving to him as he headed down the street. "Bring me back a present!" she called out to him, "preferably something delicious!"

He didn't turn around, but she knew he was laughing.

Once he was out of sight, she bolted into the house and threw open her wardrobe. Today was the day she would be meeting Okita Soushi again. Her heart fluttered wildly and her hands were shaking as she pulled out a forest and gold furisode. She had been unable to fully enjoy the beauty of these kimono, as she had been married at the tender age of seventeen.

It still wasn't proper for her to be wearing them, but as she had been blessed with a second chance for romance, she wasn't about to take any chances. She may have been widowed, but damn it all she was still _young_.

She was going to do things her way this time, the right way, even if that meant doing everything she had been taught was wrong.

xxxx


	4. A Dangerous Proposition

**Author's Note: **P.P.V.V.: Oh yes, I have/have plans to feature a little bit of Kenshin in all three main fics :) I do take my characterization of him from the OVA, as that is my favourite Kenshin 'persona', if you would. :D (I much prefer young & stoic battousai over goofy peace loving wanderer.)

Also, hooray for convenient misinformation and part 3 of Okita the hairdresser. :3 I can't help myself.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 04**

Okita headed towards the river feeling particularly cheery. Happiness was his default mood, being the sort of man that could find the good in just about any situation, but in the days that had passed, he and Harada had discovered the Yamata household and it had been concluded that they posed no threat.

They were an old family, living in a town not far from the city. The son, they had discovered, was nothing more than a spoiled brat, bitter about the government, but lacking any motivation to do anything irrational.

There was no daughter in the registry, but rumor had it that there _was_ a daughter, a bastard child, who may or may not have lived at the house with a brother that cared for her out of some unknown pity.

If that was the case, it was no wonder she was so attached to him.

Shousha was already waiting when he arrived and he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, wondering if she had been early or if he had made himself late. He also wondered if this would anger her. Punctuality was not one of his strong points, but he generally wasn't late enough to cause harm.

Hearing his footsteps, she turned, and her smile melted away any doubt he may have had.

"Okita Soushi," she said, her voice edged with wonder, "you came!"

Returning her smile, he stopped before her. "Of course," he said lightly, "the days couldn't pass quickly enough."

There was a moment of uneasy silence then as color rose up in her cheeks. Okita cleared his throat awkwardly, wishing he had more control over his words. It hadn't yet been three weeks since he husband's passing and here he was, spewing words of a lover.

"I brought you a gift!" he said hurriedly, pulling out a long lacquered box. When she looked up in surprise, he grinned, "It's just a little something that made me think of you."

"You thought of me?" she whispered, accepting the box and staring at it, unable to open it just yet.

Nervous, he scanned her puzzled face. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "is this-is this inappropriate? Am I too forward?"

"N-No!" Shousha stammered, letting out a shaky laugh, "It's just been so long since I've received a spontaneous gift."

"Did your husband never give you tokens of his love?"

Her head snapped up sharply and she stared into his curious, slightly concerned brown eyes.

"My husband was very quick to remind me of all the feelings he harbored for me," she told him, "but I can assure you love was not among them."

Though his eyes were apologetic, his smile remained strong, derailing Shousha's memories. Was he doing that on purpose, or was that how every women reacted in his presence? It didn't matter, she decided, as she removed the top of the box to reveal its treasure.

There, nestled softly in its home, was a white hair ribbon. Pulling it out, she noticed the ends had been painted with beautiful blues and creams, an image of thrashing waves.

"You remind me of the sea," Okita told her, "and I like the way you tie your hair."

Shousha laughed, "I don't like to waste my time on something so silly as hair. I'd much rather put my efforts into my clothing."

"I can see that," he chucked, then held out his hand, "may I?"

She nodded quickly, handing him the ribbon, heart fluttering as he positioned himself behind her, pulling out the plain black tie she had chosen for the day. She had never had a man tend to her in this manner and found it both strange and exhilarating at the same time.

He pulled out a small comb and began to gather her hair back together, using the ivory teeth to tame what locks may have gone astray.

"The white will look lovely against your skin," he went on, "you have the ability to wear any color, don't you?"

"I'm particularly fond of red," she admitted, "and blue."

Okita stopped his hands for a moment and inhaled, yet unable to stop his thoughts from turning into words.

"I would love to see you in navy."

They both felt the heat rising from her neck to her cheeks and ears as she considered his request. They were little more than strangers, yet somehow, it didn't seem all that improper, as new as these feelings were for both of them.

"I have navy," she whispered softly.

Forcing down the urge to keep his fingers in her hair, he tied the ribbon and spun her around to face him, With a gentle sweep of his fingers, he brushed her bangs that fell so strangely to the side, away from her face.

"All set," he said softly, giving her a half grin, "you look wonderful."

Breath caught in her throat, Shousha wrapped her fingers around his wrist as he withdrew. _Don't stop,_ she wanted to say. There was nothing wrong with their closeness; he was a man, able to do whatever be pleased by right of birth, and she had already been married once. Surely no one would look down upon them for these flirtations.

When his fingertips had brushed her brow, she had felt the chills running down her spine, yet a calming warmth spreading over her skin. He felt it too; she could see it in his eyes. Something had risen between the two of them, something had awoken them.

But for all her certainty, Shousha was unable to voice anything bold or brazen.

"Thank you," she said, releasing his arm and looking to the side with a secret smile.

"Well then," he said, clearing his throat, and the air, of the incredibly juvenile awkwardness that was settling in, "shall we take a stroll?"

"Yes," she said, taking his arm, "I don't think there will be many days like this once autumn arrives."

As they walked along the river, they talked of many things, each of them careful to avoid talk of the revolution. Conversation came easily for them, their hunger to know each other powerful and unrelenting.

"My mother died giving birth to me," she told him, taking a seat on a bench and nodding to a couple who passed them with a smile, "and my father joined her about five years later."

Okita gave her a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Shousha smiled and waved it off. "I don't miss either of them too much. I never knew my mother and my father spent his days in grief. My brother is six years my senior and he's cared for my from the very beginning. Until I married, very few people ever saw us apart."

"I can relate to that," he said, chuckling, "I too have sisters that never wanted to leave my side."

Shousha's eyes lit up, "You have sisters?"

Okita nodded, "Two. They're older than me, though, and both married now. I do miss them terribly."

"Miss them?"

"They're in Edo," he replied, "That's where I'm from, originally. My entire family is still there."

Shousha frowned. "That must be incredibly lonely. I know I was loneliest without my family."

Okita shrugged and leaned back, "I miss my nieces and nephews the most. Children are so wonderful. I can't wait to have some of my own."

For a fraction of a second, Shousha shrunk back. This did not go unnoticed.

"Are you alright?"

Her recovery was swift and she smiled at him pleasantly. "Should I not be?"

With an answer like that, Okita was unable to counter it with his curiosity of her reaction to the thought of children.

"What was it like to be raised by a man?" he asked, redirecting the conversation.

Laughing, she raised an eyebrow, "My childhood was most likely akin to yours," she replied, "but with flowers in place of swords."

"Flowers? You can arrange flowers?"

Furrowing her brow, she looked at him pleadingly, "Does _everything_ I say surprise you, Okita Soushi?"

Everything she said _did_ surprise him. "All I mean," he said, "is that being raised by a man must have had its limitations."

Shousha smiled, "and do you believe that there are no tutors where I come from?"

Okita chuckled at this. How could he have forgotten? She came from a well off family. Of course she would have been tutored in all the most feminine subjects.

"That's not to say that I can't hold my own," she said, holding up her fists. "I could break your nose if you try anything funny."

Surprised, Okita jumped and his fingers traveled instinctively towards the hilt of his wakizashi. He hadn't overlooked anything in her history, had he?

"Not that I would," she added, seeing his caution, "Realistically, I probably wouldn't be able to lay a finger on you, but I know how, and that's what really matters."

"There isn't much sense in knowing if you can't act upon that knowledge," he told her, patting his nose absently. Really, she could break it?

Shousha crossed her arms. "I said I couldn't lay a finger on _you. _I imagine, having spent your life training to become a killer puts you at a bit of an advantage over myself, who has only been taught the basics of hand to hand combat."

This was most intriguing to the captain, as he had never before met, or heard of, a woman who sat like a lady and threatened to break his nose with such sweet syllables. He was suddenly very _very_ glad for her neutral stance. He had no doubt that if she adopted her brother's anti-bakufu views, she might be a horrifyingly valuable asset to Katsura, should he ever discover her existence.

"And what would you be doing with your basic skills, Shou-chan?"

"Protecting myself," she told him triumphantly, holding up four fingers, "I broke my husband's nose four times."

"You mean-"

"I'm not afraid of men," she interrupted, "and I'm not afraid of blood. I'll spill it if I have to."

"That's terrifying," Okita breathed.

"Not terrifying," Shousha said forcefully, "_necessary. _My brother told me that every woman should be able to protect herself should she ever arrive in a dire situation."

"I don't see how the knowledge of breaking faces is a necessary skill for a woman," Okita said uneasily, "while there are indeed cruel men, there are many others who would rush to the aid of a damsel in distress."

"And if there are none around?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he laughed, "there are always men around. It is our job to protect you, the fairer sex."

"And what then, if it is the very man who has sworn to protect the woman that she needs to protect herself from?"

Her tone had become bitter and resentful, something that didn't suit her. Her fists were clenching the silk covering her knees. Though she tried to keep her expression calm and appropriate for public, there was a fierce fire in her eyes that he couldn't ignore.

"Why did he hurt you?" he asked softly, leaning forward and placing his hands over her own shaking knuckles.

"That hardly matters," she said quickly, snatching her hands away, "he's dead now and I'm safe."

"It matters to me."

"Yet you don't believe that I have a right to inflict pain on someone who has done me wrong."

Wounded, he drew back.

"Tell me something," she said, her voice losing it's iciness and taking on a genuine curiosity, "what do you think of women?"

"I like them," he told her earnestly, which earned him a flat look.

"What I mean is, do you believe women to be below you in status?"

Putting his thumb to his lips, he thought for a minute. Coming up with no suitable answer, he lifted his shoulders and gave her a sheepish smile.

"I never thought about it. We have our duties and women have theirs. That's how it has always been."

"That's your problem," she said, jabbing his chest with her finger, "You don't _think _about it. What are the duties of a wife? To prepare her husband's bath, meals, and clothing. To keep his house clean, bear his children, and rear them. And what does the husband do? He spends his time at the bottle and sword."

"The husband risks his life for his family's happiness," Okita interjected.

"No," Shousha corrected, "he risks his life for honor. And when he gives his life for his _precious_ honor, what then? What happens to his wife, broken hearted, penniless, and with the weight of the world crushing down upon her shoulders? Nothing. She is forced to make ends meet on top of all domestic duties, which she will. Who then is the fairer sex, Okita Soushi?"

There were very few people who could silence the first captain, as much as some tried, but the woman before him had managed to do just that. It was several minutes of squirming under her intensely critical gaze before he was able to speak again.

"Your thoughts are very radical, Shousha," he said quietly, "Romantic and very dangerous. I am very glad you are not my opponent. I'm not entirely sure I would emerge victorious."

To this, she beamed, "My brother favors the idea of equality. It's one of his ideals that I do honestly believe in."

"Well then I pray I never find myself opposing him either," he laughed.

"So do I," she said honestly, "I like you far too much."

"And you brother? I imagine your feelings for him are nothing less than favorable."

"I would die for him," she said resolutely, raising her chin to look at Okita directly. "He's the only thing in life I would sacrifice myself for."

The sun was set high in the sky now and Okita knew he'd have to be heading back. His afternoon students would be arriving soon. With a smile and the offering of his hand, he lifted her from the bench with ease, and they began their journey back to their meeting place.

Though most of the walk was silent, held in a comfortable bubble of contentment, the stolen glances they shared spoke volumes. She was a strange woman, uncouth and raw, with impossible thoughts and unrealistic ideals, but even still, there was a childish charm about her that Okita found himself unable to resist.

"He wanted an heir," she said after a while.

Caught in his thoughts, Okita turned to her. "I'm sorry?"

"You asked me why he hurt me," she said, "I was unable to bear him a son."

Unsure of how to respond, he gave her a cheery, hopeful look, "then you have daughters?"

The pleasant smile that she had been displaying faded and her eyes became solemn. "No. For the six years that I shared his bed, I was unable to conceive at all."

Perhaps it was wrong of him, rushed, foolish, and presumptuous, but a strong, stinging disappointment began to develop in Okita's gut. It was true that they had not known each other long, but still he had believed that he could spend the rest of his life by her side and be completely happy. But she was barren. Sterile. He, too, desired children above all else, girls or boys, it mattered not.

She saw this, having been examining him intently for his reaction, and he bit back a curse as her eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears.

"I understand if you see no further reason to meet with me," she told him shakily, "A woman isn't worth the effort if she can't conceive, or so I'm told."

"No!" he protested, "I don't mind."

"You're lying."

Stopping on the open road, he stood before her, his face stern and jaw set. "Yamata Shousha. I am not the type of man to put my own desires before another's. Yes, I want children. No, I will not hold it against you that you can not give them to me."

"You've thought so far?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes and pretending that she hadn't had similar thoughts.

Relaxing his face, Okits took hold of her fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "It's ridiculous, I know."

She gave him a half-smile, mimicking his shrug from earlier, "It isn't so unusual. The storytellers speak of it often."

"That's exactly it," he went on, "Now that I've started to know you, I find that I don't want to stop."

"I'm not so special," she told him, softly, beginning to walk away, but his hold on her hands was strong and he stopped her with a gentle resistance.

"Neither am I," he said. "You are simply a woman, and I am nothing more than a man. Isn't that reason enough to begin a courtship?"

"You could have any woman," she replied, "you are handsome, kind, and dedicated. I am certain there are more appropriate matches for you."

"I never said anything about being appropriate."

There was a slight hint of devilish mischief in his tone that sent Shousha's mind reeling. He didn't strike her as the type of man to go against tradition or to wander off the straight path of propriety, but there had to be a reason that the poets chose to write about things such as the way her heart thudded against her chest, or the sincere desperation in his eyes, clouded over by the mists of desire.

"Please," he said, "let me know you."

Up until now, she hadn't considered the consequences of meeting with him. She liked him, she dreamed about him, and she longed to feel his skin against hers, in any manner, chaste or not. But here, with him requesting her permission to enter into something less fleeting than secret smiles and stolen glances, she began to wonder. Could she keep Kogoro a secret from him? Would she be able to live a double life, one as lover to one of the most powerful men in service to the Shogunate, and the other, devoted sister to the leader of the revolution against it? Was she strong enough to support both of them as men, yet disregard either of their causes?

She rarely cared for the rules set forth by others, but by agreeing to his proposition, she would hold the lives of two men in her hands. If she wasn't careful, she would destroy them both.

But yet...

Shousha had never known happiness in a man. She had been married off too quickly to have had any suitors, not that any had been lining up, and knowing her irrational and oftentimes angry nature, no man had been willing to be taken on as her lover.

The man standing before her was offering her a chance to find beauty in the private world of a man and a woman. He hadn't said so in so many words, but his expressions and his actions told her everything she needed to know, they answered all of her questions.

_He_ was not unkind. _He_ did not seek comfort in alcohol. _He_ did not want to inflict pain on her. _He_ liked _her_ for who she was, nothing more, and nothing less.

And so, though she knew very well that she may live to regret it, she said a prayer, asking for her brother's forgiveness, threw caution to the wind, and with a smile that shook from happiness, whispered a single word.

_Yes._

xxxx

**Author's Note**_**: **_Eek. I got really nervous here, spilling about her marriage. Tragic pasts are a key element of a Mary-Sue, something I, in no way, shape, or form, have any intention of _ever_ creating. (Well, Shou's been around for about 8 years, so I wouldn't say I'm _creating_ her here, per se)

This chapter was a huge challenge, especially with Mori having been her husband instead of her father like in the other two. *exhale* I need chocolate.


	5. An Unexpected Proposal

**Author's Note: **Did someone say angst? I love the A word :) You can be sure that there will be plenty of it to come later on~

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 05**

"Soushi hasn't been around much, has he?"

Tokio rested her chin in her hands as she stared out the window. Saitou sat a few feet away, calmly writing out instructions for one of their spies.

"He's been busy," he replied without looking at her.

"With _her," _she swooned, smiling absently, "I wonder what she's like. I bet she's wonderful. She has to be if she's won Sou's heart."

Saitou snorted. "From what I heard she broke her husband's face a few times. A woman like that can't be anything but trouble."

Tokio sat up. "Like I said, she sounds wonderful."

There was a moment of silence as she tested out the mood he was in. He didn't seem angry today, but neither was he rising to meet her with witty banter. He was simply calm. Dull. Boring.

Tokio hated boring.

"I always wondered what it might be like to fall in love," she sighed, "I'm so jealous."

"If you want a man that badly, go out and pick one," Saitou clipped, "It's not like they aren't lining up at your feet."

He hated when she talked like this. Ridiculous female notions. Her father allowed her to read romances and fairy tales. _That_ was the problem, he knew it. She had too much time on her hands, too many opportunities to dream, and too big of a mouth not to keep said dreams to herself.

Saitou did not like to waste anything, least of all time or energy. He also detested when people were ungrateful and Tokio was on the road to just such a trait. Her father's wealth was well known, and her dowry was exceedingly generous to say the least. In addition to the money and material goods she would bring into a man's family, at almost eighteen years of age, she easily surpassed any other woman in beauty.

It was due to all these favorable factors, that Takagi Tokio was the most eligible bachelorette in Kyoto. There were more young (and some not so young) men arriving at her house to seek her hand than there may have even been young men _in_ Kyoto. Tokio, however, had thusfar rejected each and every one of them.

On one hand, Saitou really couldn't blame her. He hadn't been impressed with any of the saps either. On the other hand, he wished she'd make up her mind already. One would think that with such a selection, she could find someone at least _suitable_ in that hoard of testosterone.

Instead, she stood firm in her belief that someday, someone would come along, sweep her off her feet, and carry her off into the sunset. For the sake of her father, she did allow some of these _fine_ gentleman to take her out, accompanied by her no less than threatening bodyguard, of course.

These were always trying times for Saitou. As a man who prided himself on a realistic take on life, having to stand by, listening to these pathetic souls recite poetry and babble on about their undying love for this girl who he knew they didn't even know (nobody knew Tokio the way he did), was nothing sort of torture.

"Tokio-san," the latest had said, smile shaking as he handed her a bouquet of flowers, "these remind me so much of you."

Saitou rolled his eyes. The first thing any suitor should know about Tokio was that she was allergic to flowers.

"Oh, thank you," she replied, accepting them, but keeping them at a safe distance from her nose.

"I love you so much," her suitor went on, "I can't stop thinking about you. Night and day your beautiful face is all I can see."

"And my dowry?" she asked gently, voice feigning innocent inquiry, "do you think of that often as well? My father fears that men want to take me as their wife for wrong reasons. I pray that is not the case with you."

The young man faltered a bit, sputtering out a few syllables before returning his gaze to her with a watery smile. Saitou's smile, however, was much more victorious. For all her playacting, Tokio was quite a fox. She knew exactly how to play all of these propositions and each time she managed to catch them off guard, he felt proud.

He wasn't entirely sure why he felt this way. A part of him thought that perhaps it was because being together for so long, a bit of his personality had rubbed off on her. She was extremely inquisitive in her own way, and did what she had to in order to get the necessary information from potential threats.

Not that these men were any threat to _her_, of course.

Regaining his composure, the suitor reached out to brush her cheek, "It would benefit my family greatly, but-"

Tokio moved away with waggle of her finger. "I understand," she said, before turning to Saitou. "Hajime, let's go home."

Saitou pulled himself away from the tree he had been leaning on and took hold of her elbow, leading her away.

"T-T-Tokio-san!" the man cried after her, scrambling up from the bench they had been sitting on.

"Good day to you, sir," she said, turning to speak to him, but not slowing her pace as the distance between them increased. Defeated, he sat back down.

"What a fool," Saitou mumbled, snatching the flowers from her hands and tossing them into the woods, "now I'll have to deal with your sneezing for the rest of the day."

"It could be worse," she pointed out, "You could have had to listen to _him_ for another hour."

He didn't respond, but she knew he agreed with her.

"I can not marry him," she announced to her father when they returned.

As usual, the middle aged man gave her a paternal smile. "I could not force you into unhappiness, my dear."

"Thank you for your understanding, father," told him, bowing, flicking her gaze towards Saitou, then leaving the room for her own.

Kojuro sighed. "It's always 'no.'"

Saitou remained silent.

"I always hope that the next one will win her heart, but now I wonder if there is anyone else left."

"With all due respect, sir," the miburo cut in, "You have allowed your daughter the freedom of her own thoughts and unrealistic expectations. You will be hard pressed to find a man who can appreciate a strong minded woman."

"I have not had a problem with men appreciating _her," _Kojuro said, pulling a sheet of parchment from a drawer to his left, "but she seems unable to see this."

"They don't appreciate her."

"Excuse me?"

Saitou cleared his throat. "I have not seen one suitor that could appreciate her for what she is. Lust for her face and fortune is not equal to affection for her soul. She knows this. That is why she has not married."

Kojuro's brow rose. "And do you, Saitou Hajime, know of any such man?"

"Quite frankly?" he asked sardonically, not waiting for a reply, "I don't believe such a man exists."

xxxx

"I can't just marry for the sake of marrying, Hajime, you know that."

"Perhaps you should marry for the sake of your age then," he replied blandly, "You turn eighteen in one month. You'll be an old hag soon."

Tokio crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. Saitou sat in his victory for a few moments before her face appeared before his, much closer than he would have liked. Her eyes were shining and there was an all-too-familiar smile on her face.

"What ridiculous thought have you come up with now?" he asked, a scowl on his features as he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"Let's get married."

A large, ugly blot of ink ran its way over Saitou's page as his hand twitched involuntarily.

"_What._"

"Think about it, Hajime!" she said excitedly, "We've known each other for so long, and as you said, we're both getting older-"

"Twenty-three is hardly old for a man," he interjected.

"We're such good friends," she went on, ignoring his rebuttal, "and life would hardly change for us."

As she went on about all the reasons it made perfect sense for them to get married, all Saitou could do was stare. Was she _serious_? Yes, of course she was. Only Takagi Tokio could come up with a scheme of this sort.

"No."

Her face fell. "What? Why not?"

"I see no benefit in that match for me."

Sucking in her breath, she steeled her gaze. "What do you want in a wife then?"

"I don't want a wife," he replied, "I am content just as I am for the time being."

"Oh _please_, Hajime!" she cried, "I can't take any more proposals. I can't."

"So I should shackle myself to you for life?"

She sent him a hopeful smile. "It would please my father if I married soon."

"Then do as I say and pick one of the idiots," he snapped.

Tokio sighed, "I can't. I don't know any of them. I don't trust them."

As indirect as it may have been, Saitou accepted her compliment. "If you want trust and friendship, marry Okita or Harada. As for me, the sooner you marry, the sooner I am free of this position."

"Soushi has a girl," she pouted, "and Sanosuke's too reckless."

"And I am your perfect match?" he teased in response.

Tokio shot him a look and gave his hair a little tug. "Hajime, you'll never be rid of me. We're too close."

He snorted, "Says you."

"But _really_," she pressed, "I could be a good wife to you."

With a sigh, he straightened and gripped her wrist, forcing it from his hair. "Tokio, I'll strike a deal with you. The day Okita gives up on that little wench of his is the day I'll take you on as my wife."

Pulling away fiercely, and standing, Tokio's eyes flashed as she stamped her foot. "That is unfair!" she shouted, pointing her finger at him, "That is unfair in so many ways!"

He shrugged, "Your proposition is steep. My term is equal."

"You are so, so, so _mean!_"

"I never claimed to be a nice man, Tokio. You should know this above all."

The door slid open then and Hijikata appeared before the two of them.

"Takagi-san," he addressed her calmly, "if you don't mind, could you manage to keep your voice a few levels below battle cry? Your screeching is greatly disturbing."

Jaw slack, she thrust her hand towards Saitou in protest, but after several moments of Hijikata's intense gaze, hung her head in defeat.

"My apologies, Hijikata-san. I was upset."

The vice commander looked between the two. "Is this something that should be discussed with your father, Takagi-san?"

"There is no need for that," Saitou replied coolly, "Tokio was simply expressing certain female frustrations. Something us _men _couldn't possibly fathom."

Hijikata gave her a stern once over before nodding. "Perhaps then, young miss, you will remember that here you are in the presence of men and will keep such emotional outbursts to yourself."

"Yes sir," she said quietly.

"Very good then."

He disappeared and Tokio let out a ragged breath. "That man," she said, balling her hands into fists. "I don't like that man."

Saitou furrowed his brow. "Why ever not?"

"Well," she said, falling back on her bottom and using her hands as support behind her body, "it's not that I don't like him. He just..."

"He just?"

"He never speaks to me unless he's reprimanding me!" she said, throwing up her hands, but placing them back down on the tatami before losing her balance, "You'd _think_, that a gentleman such as himself would at least have the decency to say hello once in a while."

Saitou found humor in this and he smiled, "He's an efficient sort of man, Tokio. Hijikata rarely does anything without purpose."

"If by efficient you mean _rude_, then fine," she muttered.

"Just because a man doesn't fall prostrate at your feet doesn't make him rude," he pointed out.

"You don't," she countered.

"Yes," he replied, smiling, "and you think me rude."

She huffed in return, but turned her head so he couldn't see the smile that also crept up onto her features. Looking to the window, she noticed the sun at its highest point in the sky.

"Are you hungry, Hajime?"

"Naturally," he replied, returning to his work.

Tokio stood. "I'll be back then."

He nodded, more to himself than to her, and continued on with his script. This was how it was every day. She always asked if he was hungry, even though she knew the answer. Even if he wasn't hungry, they had adopted this routine nearly eight years ago. When the day was at its peak, she would go into the kitchen and prepare him a bowl of soba.

It was a simple dish, one that was difficult to destroy, but it had been the first she had learned to make, using him as her guinea pig. It also happened to be his favourite. The years that had passed had blurred his memory and he didn't know if she had learned to make these noodles because they were his favourite, or if they were his favourite because she made them.

Now that she was a self-proclaimed independent woman (who relied on the funds her parents provided), Saitou found it pleasantly surprising each day she continued with this act. Perhaps it was habit, or maybe it was her obsession with their friendship that kept her serving him each day.

Or maybe it was something he just didn't yet understand.

xxxx

"What a gorgeous day!"

Okita smiled as he watched Shousha throw out her arms and spin in the grass of the riverbank. Autumn had come upon them, but in its infancy, the weather was still warm. This day was a particularly hot one, giving them all the illusion that they were somewhere in mid-summer.

"You don't think it's too warm?" he asked, catching one of her hands and spinning her into an embrace.

"Oh no," she sighed, welcoming his arms and throwing her own around his neck, burying her face into his skin and enjoying his scent, "it's perfect."

They had grown close in the weeks that had followed his proposal of courtship, barreling past awkward hand holding and sneaky glances with ease. Each time they met it was a race for contact. If she didn't jump into his arms, he was there, sweeping her feet from under her and carrying her off to their spot on the riverbank just before the bridge.

It was quiet there, hidden away from anyone passing by, but with great visibility of the world above. The grass grew thick and the water flowed lazily, tripping over the few stones that lined the edges of the valley.

Okita sat down slowly, guiding Shousha down with a gentle hand on her waist. She leaned against his shoulder, kicking off her geta and pulling her tabi from her feet.

"What are you doing," he asked, laughing as he twisted to look at her, pulling up the hem of her kimono to tuck it up into her obi.

"I want to feel the grass," she replied, wiggling her toes between the blades, "once it starts getting cold I'll have to wait until spring."

"Even still, Shou-chan, you look like a... like a..." he furrowed his brow trying to think of exactly what it was she looked like. "Well I don't know what you look like but you look ridiculous."

She laughed at him then, stretching out her legs. "I don't care," she said softly.

He glanced over at her and smiled, letting out a satisfied breath of air. "Neither do I."

Shousha scooted herself over a bit, settling against his body and staring out at the water before her. In that moment, life was perfect.

She was amazed at how quickly she had grown attached to him. He was easy to like, laughing at her uncommon ways yet never failing to show his genuine surprise when she did or said something far less than expected. He never told her she was wrong or foolish, something everyone, Katsura included, was normally quick to do.

He liked to bring her gifts, and she liked to receive them. Okita quickly learned that the best type of gifts to bring were those of the edible variety and he was more than happy to present her with sweets. She always shared.

"What do you plan to do, Soushi?" she asked, tilting her head up to the sky, "when this is all over and you have nothing left to fight for?"

"I don't know," he replied, "I haven't thought about it."

"Knowing yourself, what do you think would happen?"

Okita thought for a moment. "Knowing myself? I suppose I'd go home to Edo to see my family. I'd probably marry, have children, and continue to serve my lord as needed."

"What if you lose? What if the Shogunate _is_ abolished? What then?"

He frowned. That was something he wasn't prepared to answer. What _would_ he do if they lost? Would they assassinate him? He smiled grimly to himself. They could try.

Seppuku wasn't an unrealistic notion. He wasn't entirely fond of the idea, as he'd much rather die an honorable death on the battlefield than in an open courtyard.

Perhaps the patriots and their new government would spare him because of his skill and give him a lofty position in the established military.

That was an even less appealing thought.

"What about you?" he countered, prying the subject away from himself, "no matter the outcome, what will you do?"

Shousha smiled. "I want to be by the sea. I want a decent house in a small village, perhaps a fishing village on the cliffs. I want to grow my own vegetables and swat chickens away from my doorstep."

He chuckled. "You've got that all planned out haven't you?"

"Yes," she said, "I'll make quarterly trips into the city and bring back gifts for all the children that will never be mine. And I'll have a cat, a white cat with black ears who will sit on my shoulder while I paint and watch the waves crash on the rocks."

Okita pictured this. It would be a lovely scene, one that he'd like to see with his own eyes. She was a skilled watercolorist, he had learned. Her familiarity with the art was not unlike his dedication to his sword. She moved without hesitation, without need for thought, yet with the exact precision of someone who had studied their entire life.

She had painted for him twice, and both scrolls he had hung in his room. Harada and Tokio had poked fun at him for this, but he had laughed it off, swatting away their friendly prodding.

"Could I join you?" he asked, "by the sea?"

Shousha turned to face him. "What about your wife?" she teased, "I'm not sure she'd want to live in the house of an old widow."

A grin broke out on his face then and he entered into the world of the hypothetical with her.

"I could give up marriage," he told her, "because you see, my wife wouldn't love me."

"I find that hard to believe," she replied with a giggle, "you're very charming."

"Ah, that is true," he sighed, looking to her mournfully, "but my wife, she is in love with another. He's a good man, and he loves her too, but he is poor. She accepted my proposal to save her family."

"How sad," Shousha said, pouting, "what will she do?"

Okita smiled. "_She_ will be just fine. Her love will find good work and as I have no idea who she is, I can't exactly propose to her, now can I? I'll go to the sea with you and my mystery wife is free to be with the man who loves her."

Shousha's smile faded slightly. "What about your future children? Could you give them up so easily?"

"That will be difficult," he replied honestly.

Shousha looked down at her fingers, wrestling with each other. She knew she couldn't try to persuade him to spend his days with her if he truly desired something else. Not on this subject. It was every man's right to have children, and every woman's duty to provide them.

"_But_," he pressed, lifting her chin to meet his cheerful gaze.

"But?" she whispered, chills running through her body at the intimate contact.

"Every town has orphans," he told her, smiling, "we'll take them all."

Shousha's eyes widened. Children without parents, and a couple without children. They were a perfect match for each other, but she had never considered that. Most people looked down upon the dirty children of the streets, but this man saw them as an opportunity for family. For her.

"We could do that," she agreed softly.

"See?" he said, "life would be perfect."

She turned away, tossing her tail of hair over her shoulders and leaning forward to pluck some grass up from the ground.

"Of course it's going to be perfect," she told him, flashing him a cheeky grin, "you'll be spending it with me."

Okita laughed, crossing his arms behind his head and laying down. "And here I thought _I_ was the reason for life's bliss."

Shousha smiled, fingers entangled in the green leafy blades.

_Yes, you are._

xxx


	6. A Humorous Misunderstanding

**Author's Note: **In this chapter we learn that Shousha may or may not be completely insane. Hope you find it as entertaining as I did writing it.

Also, I had to watch episode one of T&B again to get a feel for Kenshin and as I'm sitting there I almost feel like I'm betraying the series and all of its political seriousness with this fic. (I'm crap with politics and like, any serious man...stuff.) So, uh. Sorry, T&B. I love you.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 06**

There were many parts of the day that Shousha looked forward to. Breakfast was one such time. Breakfast was the one hour that she was guaranteed to have alone with her brother. They were often alone in the home; very rarely did he invite anyone over, but their morning meal was a time that he put aside his work and focused on spending time with the only family he had.

"I have a present for you," he told her one day, smiling softly as her eyes lit up.

"A present?" she asked, unable to contain her excited grin. He brought her gifts often and each time she received one she treasured it.

He nodded. "You'll have to suffer through a little bit of business, I'm afraid, but it will be worth the wait."

Shousha leaned forward, hopeful. "What is it?"

Katsura shook his head as he swallowed the food he had just put in his mouth. "It's a surprise."

Putting on a fake pout, she hid her face behind her bowl and slumped her shoulders. She could see him smiling and shaking his head affectionately while she tried to pull information from him by her silence. It didn't work.

Three quarters of an hour later, they were walking down the streets of Kyoto, headed for an unknown destination. Their walk was quiet and comfortable, and Shousha clung to his arm the entire time. It wasn't out of fear, but out of love and joy that he was able to take more than one hour from the day to be with her.

Senses ever alert, Katsura scanned the entire street with each step that he took. It was a busy day, which meant that enemies had the crowd to use to their advantage. But then again, so did he.

The people parted then and Katsura snapped his eyes upwards and into focus. Quickly, he dashed into an alley, pulling Shousha in with him, and pressing her close to his chest so she wouldn't be seen. Blue haori and daisho paraded by and he scanned the ranks, mentally taking note of who was present on patrol this morning.

_Saitou, Kanryuusai, Okita, Hiromu..._

The list went on in his brain, all the names and faces he had acquired. He could feel his sister's heart racing against his ribs and along with his attendance tally, he calculated the likelihood of each passing man that they would spare her should they notice him.

It didn't look good.

"It's alright," he whispered into her hair, hoping to calm her, "they're almost gone."

But Shousha wasn't as afraid for her life as he was. Her only fear was simply being discovered in his presence. It was selfish, but she was finally finding happiness. She couldn't let it be destroyed so soon.

They continued on their way for some time, using winding back roads and secret cut-throughs of various buildings. When they finally entered an inn, Shousha was exhausted. The landlady greeted Katsura warmly, offering the both of them water and fresh dumplings. Shousha opened her mouth to accept both of these, but Katsura cut her off.

"If you would," he told the middle aged woman, "please have them sent upstairs with some tea. We will be there shortly."

"Of course," she told him, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Shousha desperately hoped she was included in that 'we'.

A man came to the entrance then, a man of average build, slightly shorter than Katsura, but with beady eyes and a patchy mustache. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck and there was a strange way that his mouth curved up into a knowing smile.

"Good morning, Katsura-san," he said, his voice slick. Shousha averted her eyes.

Katsura greeted him in return, but his tone was that of boredom as he addressed him. _Iizuka._

"Will you send Himura upstairs? I'd like to meet with him."

Iizuka nodded, giving Shousha a less-than-discreet once over, before heading back the way he came.

"I've got a meeting this morning," Katsura told his sister, steering her by her lower back towards the staircase, "I'd like to keep it under an hour, but in the even that it isn't, I think you'll find yourself in good company."

He slid open the door to an empty room, a living area, and ushered her inside.

"You can stay here," he said gently, "your snacks will be up shortly."

"And my company?" she teased, "I hope it wasn't that man downstairs."

Katsura let out a short bark of laughter. "As if I'd ever let Iizuka alone with a cherished woman."

She smiled and lowered her voice, "He wasn't handsome at all."

No, he wasn't, Katsura silently agreed.

"Katsura-san?"

Turning, the Choshu leader met the eyes of his newest recruit, his most prized fighter. _The Battousai_.

"Ah," he said straightening, "Himura, please come in."

Himura Kenshin stepped into the room, eyes flicking to every corner before finally resting on Shousha. He looked at her with mild curiosity, wondering what connection she had with his employer. His question was short lived.

"I'd like to introduce you to my sister, Shousha."

Himura bowed. "Shousha-dono."

Katsura turned to her, "Shousha, this is Himura Kenshin. I trust the two of you will enjoy each other's presence in my absence."

When her brother shut the door silently behind him, Shousha examined the man, no, the boy standing uncomfortably before her. He was a small thing, probably not any bigger than Okita, and the dark red hair that hung down his back was the most unusual shade she had ever seen. His eyes were wide and curious, a soft violet flecked with the smallest hint of amber.

The tea and dumplings arrived before there was a chance for any heavy awkwardness to set in, and when they sat down to eat, Shousha struck conversation.

"So," she started, pouring the tea haphazardly, a reflex in defiance for all the times she had been punished for doing it wrong. "are you from the city?"

"No," he replied quietly, staring into his cup, "I arrived in Kyoto three weeks ago."

"Oh," she said, "I haven't been here long either."

Himura looked up as she sighed, shoving her chin into her hands. "I like it here though," she went on, "there's so much to do."

He didn't agree with her. While there were many things to see and do in this city, his role was clear and he did not have the time to go about sightseeing. More than anything, he found Kyoto to be overwhelming, overbearing, and too much of, well, everything.

There was no peace here, no place that was completely silent, ever. He knew that he had come here with a purpose and he would never deny that purpose. Even still, there were times, especially in recent nights, these first four nights after his first kill, that he longed to be back in the mountains with his master. There, surrounded by the stillness of the wild Earth, there was certainty and clarity.

Kyoto, and the path he walked in it, was filled with anxiety and unpredictability. He could afford neither of the two, yet they surrounded him, begging to let them consume him. He shuddered at the thought.

"Are you alright?"

Shousha's voice broke through his musings and he offered her a ghost of a smile. "My apologies. I was lost in thought."

For a minute, Shousha sat still, allowing him to finish whatever it was he was clearly desperate to hold onto. She didn't have a clue as to why Kogoro had chose this person to entertain her. He certainly wasn't a man of many words. She didn't suspect he was about to jump up and start dancing for her.

Downstairs, Katsura met up with several other men and while they began to head to the courtyard, several of the men began polite conversation while Iizuka sidled up to him.

"That girl with you was quite pretty," he said, giving Katsura a grin.

"Yes," he agreed, "she is."

"Unusual though. She isn't foreign is she? Chinese?"

Katsura frowned, looking over at the examiner. "No."

"Well still," Iizuka continued thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "a gem like that must be worth quite a bit. Where did you find her?"

"She is my sister," Katsura replied simply, lengthening his stride and leaving the other man stuck with his foot in his mouth.

xxxx

It had been over an hour since Shousha had been left alone with Himura Kenshin, but she hardly noticed. He didn't talk much aside from his polite responses or three worded commentary, so she took the opportunity to explain to him in vivid detail as to why her Kogoro was the best, most upstanding brother in the world. He was, as it was told by her, _by far_ the greatest man to ever walk the Earth, a true paragon.

Himura absorbed all of this information, even though he was only listening to half of it, staring straight ahead with glossy eyes and heavy lids-her constant sudden and sporadic movements the only thing keeping him from falling asleep.

It wasn't that he didn't find the tales of his leader rescuing pet kittens and giving horseback riding lessons entertaining, but Shousha told them with so much emotion and fervor, simply watching her was steadily draining him of whatever energy he had.

"...and then when I was seventeen-" Shousha paused abruptly and Himura straightened. Would she be offended that she hadn't captured his full attention?

"Do you hear that?" she asked, not even having been paying attention to his attentiveness.

Hand on the hilt of his katana, Himura readied himself, focusing on the sounds around him. Having a decidedly less keen sense of her surroundings, Shousha padded over to the round window and, with her back pressed to the wall, nudged it open a bit.

"Kogoro!" she cried in a whisper, shaking her two small fists excitedly before motioning the redhead to join her.

"Can you hear what they're talking about?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Standing in a similar position on the other side of the window, Himura focused his ears again to the outside.

"Katsura-san is asking about a-"

A loud crash from downstairs shattered his concentration, not yet fully honed, and he let out a defeated sigh.

"Kneel there," Shousha instructed, pointing to the spot directly in front of the window. He did as she told him, but before he could question her, she pushed his shoulders down and hopped up onto his back.

"Shousha-dono!" he hissed, just catching his balance with his palms and wincing slightly as the balls of her tiny feet dug into his spine. Certainly this was not a position Katsura had intended to put him in.

"Shh!" she commanded, using his back for support as she leaned out the window as far as she could without being seen or falling out.

"Evesdropping is impolite," he ground out, shifting his weight, but careful not to drop her.

"We're still not sure where he came from," came the voice of a man unfamiliar to her. "but his loyalty is unquestionable. He has been raised with people after all, it seems."

"Hmm," Shousha recognized the hum of her brother's thinking. "You are certain he has no temper?"

"Not at all," said another strange voice, "as wild as he looks, he is thoroughly tame, I assure you."

The first man spoke again, "Do you think it would be a good match?"

"For Shousha?" Katsura asked, "yes, I do think this arrangement would work out very well. She needs protection when I am not around."

Another man laughed. "He's young too! A healthy fella like that will be around for a long time."

The voices drifted off and Shousha staggered down from Himura's back, chest heaving.

"That _bastard!_" she hissed.

Himura stood, rubbing his spine, but uttering no complaint. He watched her face evolve from shock to anger and marveled at how different brother and sister were. Katsura, from what he had seen, was always calm and rational, never displaying more emotion than necessary to get his point across. His sister on the other hand, expressed in excess.

"I'll kill him!" she screeched, clenching and unclenching her hands, pacing the room.

"Shousha-dono, perhaps you should calm down," Himura suggested, a headache beginning to form. He hadn't heard much of the conversation below; he hadn't tried. If they had wanted him to be informed of their plans, he would have been called to that meeting. As a lowly hitokiri, a young samurai with no real title, he rather doubted it was his place to know.

Shousha crossed her arms, staring him down. "Do _you_ want to get married?"

This caught the young warrior off guard and he turned to her, eyes wide, and long hair whipping his face as he did so.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You'd _think_ he would have learned the first time!" she growled, not giving Himura any clarification on the subject. "you'd _think _he'd have learned."

Deciding he was only wasting his breath attempting to understand what this hurricane of a woman was talking about, he stayed silent and allowed her to continue with her furious tirade.

"Well I'll show him," she said, stamping her foot. "I'll show him that I am perfectly fine on my own. I'll show him like _this_."

Grabbing the front of Himura's gi with her left arm, she pulled back her right. "I'll show him the way he taught me!"

Before she could let her fist fly towards his face, he gripped her wrist, keeping her still. At the same moment, the door slid open, and both Shousha and Himura turned their faces to the shocked expression of Katsura's.

Himura released his hold on Shousha immediately, sitting back and praying that he hadn't appeared to be hurting her. He hadn't been holding her tightly, had he?

Shousha, forgetting whatever it was that she was angry about, stood, smiling, and her eyes lit up.

"Kogoro!" she greeted him happily.

"Gods," he breathed in response, giving Himura a once over, "she didn't actually hit you, did she?"

Himura shook his head and Katsura rubbed his face with a sigh.

"Shousha, I would like to speak with Himura for a moment. Please wait for me downstairs."

Coming up to him, she pointed a threatening finger in his face. "I know what you're trying to do Kogoro, and I won't have any part in it."

When she left, he sighed again. "I believe I owe you an apology, Himura. I didn't expect for her to feel threatened by you."

Surprised, the hitokiri let his mouth fall open a bit. Should he tell Katsura the truth? That she had been demonstrating the pain she wanted to inflict on _him, _using Himura as a test subject? No, that fact was trivial. There was no sense in dragging out the matter.

"She is nice," he responded instead.

Katsura let out a low laugh. "Do not be kind on my account. I know how difficult she can be." he paused, looking out the window towards the distance. "I suppose I made her that way."

"Sir?"

"I raised her," he replied, giving his young assassin a gentle smile, "With only six years between us, perhaps I wasn't the best father for her."

"She is happy," Himura replied carefully, before lowering his voice to just above a whisper, "if I had a sister, that is all I would wish for."

Katsura regarded this with reverence, remembering his first encounter with the him. Himura Kenshin desired to wield his sword not to destroy, but to save. It was a backwards sort of thinking, contradictory in every way, but it wasn't unlike the way _he_ felt. The only difference between the two was that Katsura had put down his sword; Himura was just beginning to taste the feel of its power.

"I should fetch her then, shouldn't I?" Katsura mused, giving Himura another smile.

"Someone might be unconscious," Himura warned, allowing himself the humorous quip, but immediately closing his mouth, gauging the other man's reaction. He had not known him long and did not want to assume he could speak so freely.

But Katsura only rubbed his chin. "Perhaps then I will take a medical kit on my search."

Himura nodded, acknowledging the acceptance of his joke, but not offering anything further. Katsura excused himself, and when he arrived downstairs, was relieved to see that Shousha was not standing over a pile of lifeless men, but seated before yet another pile of dumplings, shoveling the treat into her mouth with little regard for anyone around her. Not that it mattered, really. She was Katsura's family. There wasn't a soul in that inn that would speak out against her.

"Would you like your gift now?" he asked, coming up behind her and teasing her with the last dumpling.

She reached for it, but he popped it into his mouth, watching her hopeful expression turn to that of a petulant scowl as her food was stolen from her.

"_No_," she said forcefully, but her denial was quickly replaced by curiosity when he shrugged and turned to leave.

"Wait!" she cried, scrambling up, "wait for me!"

He smiled down at her, shaking his head.

"You know," she started immediately, not wanting to give him the chance to soften her anger any more than he already had, "you are a sneaky _devil_."

"A devil?" he questioned, leading her out into the courtyard, "why am I so evil?"

"He's a _kid_, Kogoro!" she replied, crossing her arms. "Is he any older than fifteen?"

"Himura?" he asked with a raised brow, "he is young, but he is a valuable asset to my cause. I thought you were opposed to my affairs."

"I'm not talking about your precious affairs, Kogoro," she said testily. "I absolutely refuse to marry a child."

He stopped walking and she turned to look at him, eyes flashing in the afternoon sunlight. "I'm sorry," she went on, "but I am through with arranged marriages. If you don't want me in your house any longer, just say so."

For a moment, all he could do was stare. He didn't know how or why, but somehow in the past hour and a half, she had fallen under the impression that he intended for her to marry Himura Kenshin. A more ridiculous assumption he had never heard.

The corners of his lips turned up slightly, and when she crossed her arms again and lifted her chin with a "hmph!", he lost himself. Bursting out into laughter, he used his fist to cover the sounds of his humor and had to look away from his sister, because the angrier she became, the funnier he found the entire situation.

"No," she was saying, shaking her head, "No, this is not funny."

When he had regained his composure, he took a deep breath and rightened, draping his arm around her shoulder as they began to walk again. A few lower raking samurai noticed this and began to whisper curiously, never having seen their leader act so casually towards another person.

"My dearest little sister," he sighed, "where do you come up with these notions?"

She tried to escape his hold, but his arm was strong and her anger was fading into a slight aggravation.

"You said it yourself. You said it would be a good match and that I need protecting. Well I _don't_ need protecting and an adolescent boy certainly wouldn't be able to give me the level of security I would need even if I did."

"Ah, clearly you have never seen Himura draw his sword."

"That's not the point, Kogoro," she argued.

"You were evesdropping."

Shousha sputtered out a couple incoherent syllables, reclaiming her speech with a huff. "I _happened_ to hear a conversation pass under the window."

"You _happened_ to be hanging out of the window, desperate for any information you could grasp." At her stunned expression, Katsura looked down at her kindly. "I raised you. I know your every move."

_Not every move,_ she thought with satisfaction, remembering the troop of Shinsengumi parading through the market that morning. She had managed to catch a glimpse of Okita's cheery face, despite the other men who towered over her small friend.

"Well," he said, stopping before a storage shed, "are you ready for your surprise?"

Shousha looked around. "Is it a shovel?"

With two hands on her shoulders, he nudged her around the corner of the small building and into a small grassy patch of earth where, tied to a wooden post, was the biggest dog Shousha had ever seen.

Screaming, she threw up her hands and hid behind her brother, clutching the fabric of his clothing.

"What _is_ that?" she asked, peeking around to look at it, but burying her face with a squeal when it turned its giant head to look her way.

"Ah now I thought you said you weren't afraid of wolves," Katsura teased.

"Yeah, the _human_ kind," she said, her voice muffled.

"He's yours," he said, his voice suddenly soft as he rotated slowly to look down at her. "If you want him, he is yours."

Shousha eyed the beast, sitting calmly by its post, enormous grey tail flicking up and down. His tongue poked out from his massive fangs, but somehow, he appeared to be smiling. With a soft whine, he pawed the ground.

"He's tame?"

"Quite."

Timidly, she came around his body, inching towards the dog, her hand outstretched. She had no reason to doubt her brother, but also knew that wild animals weren't simply _tamed_. Sure enough, however, when she was within his reach, he gave her hand a sniff. It was a small sniff, just a curious as she was afraid, but then his tail began to thump against the ground furiously and he nuzzled his head under her hand, an invitation for her to pet him.

"Oh Kogoro!" she said, laughing as the wolf's big wet tongue slid over her cheek, "this is wonderful!"

For some time, he watched her play, simply enjoying the sound of her laughter. He hadn't heard it since they were children and now, as he made men spread death and destruction throughout the city in the name of the innocent, he was reminded of why he did so.

He had grown and changed so much, hardened by his beliefs, and lost to the choices that his beliefs caused him to make. He was an adult, a grown man, who knew the world as it was, saw what it could be, and accepted the consequences of both.

She had not grown so much, he realized. She had changed, that much was certain. She had adopted a cynical attitude about certain subjects, but she still viewed the world through the eyes of a child. She may have argued that she was a grown woman, and far too old to be wed to the likes of Himura, but Katsura knew that wasn't so. He would never suggest the match of course; he would never assume that she would take kindly to the marriage of a warrior, but there was one thing that she shared with Himura that Katsura found himself envying.

Innocence.

Despite what either of them may have seen, done, or lived through, deep down inside was a child, a child that though hidden by the horrors of the world, would never be forced to grow, or to change.

xxxx

**Author's Note: **Enter Ta-chan! His only purpose in this fic, I'm pretty sure, is this chapter. Sibling bonding *squee*


	7. An Unwanted Emotion

**Author's Note: **Happy 4th, Americans! :D I have nothing to say, otherwise.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 07**

Though there had been no significant changes in the daily lives of Takagi Tokio and Harada Sanosuke, the two of them soon found themselves itching to do something _more_. Tokio was not the sort of woman who could simply sit around accepting life as it was, and Harada was very much the same. It was because of this nature of theirs, that they decided to do something that hadn't exactly been _forbidden,_ but wasn't exactly smiled upon either.

They began to hunt down Shousha.

For all the affection Okita had for the girl, he absolutely refused to bring her by. He didn't want her to be on bad terms with her family, he had said. It was an unfortunate situation, but it couldn't be helped.

Many times Tokio and Harada had tried to join him on his outings with her, but each time their plans were foiled and the two well meaning meddlers were left at the front gate, arms crossed and pouting slightly.

Realizing that Okita simply was not going to budge, they decided to take the matter into their own hands.

"We really should at least meet her," Tokio had told Harada one day, "if he spends most of his time with her, it's only fair that we know what she's like."

Harada had agreed wholeheartedly. "He's a good kid, we don't want him to end up with the wrong kind of woman."

Saitou had not approved of these thoughts. _He_ believed that Okita's business was Okita's business and there was no reason to get involved. If the chit broke his heart, well then, that was his own damn fault for being such a romantic. Women were nothing more than trouble, good for only domestic tasks and sensual satisfaction. Allowing a woman the freedom of her own thoughts and control of her own life was a recipe for disaster.

Tokio was living proof of _that._

"Hajime," Tokio scolded, "don't you care at all? Aren't you even the slightest bit _curious_?"

"No," he had snapped, "I am not. Mind your business or I will report this to your father."

The threat was empty of course, and they both knew it. If Tokio wanted to go around satisfying her curiosities, there was absolutely no reason why Kojuro would fault her for it. _She's a curious girl_, he would say.

Because of this, they had taken turns appearing at the market, each doing their best to keep hidden, yet still catch a glimpse of this mystery woman. It was Harada who managed to see her first.

Once they knew what she looked like, they put their heads together and devised a plan. It would be a fun day, they both agreed, and they would be able to assess just what sort of girl had captured the heart of one of their greatest friends.

Leaving together was easy. Saitou was more than happy to be relieved of babysitting, even if he was well aware that they were up to no good, and having grown up together, no one, Okita included, saw anything strange about the outing.

xxxx

The weather was growing cold.

Shousha didn't like the cold weather. The days grew shorter, the nights longer, and no matter how she tried to keep warm, it never seemed to ease the raw chill in her bones.

The one good thing about the second half of autumn was the apples. She enjoyed the fresh apples that were plucked from the trees at their peak, just as anyone else did, but at this time of year, when the forgotten fruits fell from the trees and gathered on the ground, unwanted and kicked about, was in her opinion, the best time for gathering.

They weren't good for eating, not in a casual sense, but being overripe, they were perfect for boiling down with a bit of sugar. She had always made this growing up, but Mori had not approved if it and her efforts had been thwarted throughout her marriage. Kogoro, however, enjoyed the treat very much and it gave her a sense of satisfaction to know how eager he would be to eat it.

The fruit vendor piled the apples into her basket, happily accepting the money she paid for what everyone else considered waste. Shousha wasted no time in hurrying away. The basket was heavy and home was a far walk. Just as she was about to enter into the crowded streets, a deep voice called out to her.

"Yamata Shousha?"

She froze, not recognizing the tone of the man who used it, then whipped around, searching for him.

He wasn't difficult to locate. Just behind her stood a thin, yet hulking Shinsengumi officer. She recognized him from the patrol, and up until now, he had never looked particularly intimidating with his spiky black hair and his laughing brown eyes. Then again, up until now, she had been invisible.

Now, he looked ferocious, nearly a foot taller than herself, arms crossed, and his eyes, not laughing this time, but mocking, to her panicked vision.

"Wh-what do you want?" she asked, nervous, but determined to keep her cool. How did he know her name? Did he know who she was, who she _really _was?

Harada dropped his arms in surprise. Though she tried to hide it, her fear was written all over her face. That simply wouldn't do. Women weren't supposed to be afraid of him.

"Hey, I just wanna talk to you," he replied with a lopsided grin, taking a friendly step forward. Shousha let out a squeal and hurried backwards, tripping over a stone, and losing her grip on the basket of fruit. Apples poured out onto the dirt, rolling every which way and when she let out a disappointed cry, Harada held up his hand.

"Lemme get them," he said, "it's my fault."

Shousha relaxed momentarily as the Miburo scurried through the surrounding area, scooping up apples and depositing them back into her basket. With each move, he flashed her a grin and her nerves began to calm. Whatever business he had with her, she rather doubted it stemmed from her brother.

Then again, how could she be so sure?

When the last apple was returned to its place, she thanked him, but he looked at her curiously.

"Are times that tough?" he asked, genuine concern wrapped around his syllables, "those will probably have flies tomorrow." Did Okita know about this, he wondered.

Surprised, Shousha glanced up. "These are for cooking, sir," she replied, "they are best at the end of the season."

"You'll have to give me your recipe then," he joked, "I'll have to have the ladies back home make me some."

"It's quite simple," Shousha offered, "once they are peeled and sliced you only have to boil them down with some sugar. Depending on the apples, you may not need any sugar at all."

"Yeah I don't really like sweets," he replied with a shrug.

"My brother does," she said smiling, "but don't tell him I said that. He always says sweets are for women."

Amused, Harada let out a low chuckle. "I guess it's pretty appropriate to say that Okita has a sweet tooth too." he paused, giving her a once over, "but you already knew that."

Sucking in a breath, Shousha took a step back. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice an accusing whisper.

Rolling his eyes, he put up his hands, showing her he meant no harm. What a jumpy little thing.

"Listen, all I want to know is what your intentions are."

"My intentions," she echoed.

Looking around, Harada shrugged again. "Yeah. I mean, Sou's a good guy, yanno? He's tough and all, but inside he's soft. I just don't wanna see him getting all bent out of shape over some fox who's trying to pull a fast one." When he saw her pale, visibly insulted, he let his shoulders drop and added, "that's all."

"I'm not toying with him," she said defensively, "and I have no desire to take away from whatever he has set out to do. I just..." she trailed off, biting her bottom lip and glancing down at her produce. "...I need someone like him."

"Do you love him?"

The question took Shousha so much by surprise, that her head suddenly felt light and she had to grip the fence to her left for support. She didn't manage a reply, but the reddening of her face gave Harada the answer he was looking for. Even if she wasn't completely head over heels for his friend, she was infatuated enough to become dizzy over the man. He had many women swooning over himself in a similar manner. It was rather pleasing.

Just then, Harada let out an annoyed grunt as he was elbowed in the back and Tokio poked her head around his body.

"You could have waited for me!" she huffed, sending him a threatening glare that he ignored. She turned her attention to Shousha and grinned, "It's so nice to finally see you in person."

"I-I beg your pardon?"

Tokio came around, and leaned up against the fence. "You're all Sou talks about. When he refused to let us meet you, we got curious."

Shousha stiffened. "There's a reason I don't come around. I'm not rude."

Linking her arm around Shousha's elbow, Tokio gave her a sunny smile. "Oh I know. We don't want you to get in trouble at home either, but like I said: we got curious."

Harada scratched at the back of his head. "Well looks like you ladies will be fine without me. I think I'll head back."

Tokio waved him off, leading Shousha down a road she had never seen before. (Not that it was difficult. She only knew where six or so led) Despite the weight on her arms and her reluctance to follow someone she didn't know or trust, Shousha found herself unable to resist Tokio's pull. This could very well have been because Tokio seemed to be just as self assured as she was, and meeting a fellow empowered woman was so much of a treat, she wanted to know more about her.

"Are you that man's wife?"

Tokio halted, looking at her questionably, then laughing. "Sanosuke? Heavens no!" she cried, resuming her pace, "Handsome as he may be, he's big trouble. He's got no real regard for, well, anything. Spends his time in the arms of any woman willing to have him. Which," she added, "most are."

"Yourself included?" Shousha wondered.

"Of course not," Tokio replied harshly, "why would I waste my time on a man who will forget me once he has left my bed? Besides, Sanosuke could be my brother. I don't know how you feel on the subject, but I don't think I could find myself to be passionate with my brother."

"No," Shousha quickly replied, "definitely not."

After a moment, they took a turn down a narrower street and Shousha shifted the weight of the apples in her basket.

"Is there a reason you haven't yet told me your name? I can only assume you know mine."

"I'm rude," Tokio replied absently, stopping at a wall and looking up.

"You're rude?"

"That's not the reason why," she amended, amusement in her eyes, "But I suppose _not_ introducing myself does make me quite impolite."

"You don't seem to be all that bothered by it," Shousha noted, not at all put off by the other woman's lack of manners. She wasn't exactly the queen of etiquette herself.

"Takagi Tokio," she said before focusing her attention back to the wall before them. "do you climb?"

Shousha looked up. It didn't look difficult. "I can," she replied truthfully. There were some aspects of being raised by her brother that were quite beneficial. Being able to scale a wall was one of them.

"But why?"

There was a cheeky glint in Tokio's eyes that Shousha found herself liking. She also had a feeling that if either of them were found out by anyone, there would be trouble to be had. Having a natural affinity for trouble, she found herself welcoming whatever idea Tokio was about to throw out.

"It's just something I like to do on boring days," she replied, "for a little excitement."

Tokio observed Shousha carefully and found that she liked the spark in her features. She also just liked _her_. She was confused and a bit lost at the moment, but from what she had heard, and what she was seeing, once they were warmed up to each other, they would be great friends indeed.

Motioning for her to be quiet, Tokio went first. With a bit of a run, a quick jump and some clever maneuvering, she pulled herself up. Shousha followed shortly after and Tokio put a finger to her lips, and directed her new friend's attention to the other side of the wall.

Despite that Shousha had been married once, and the fact that she was notorious back home for creating scandals and having a complete disregard for propriety, the scene before her nearly caused her to swoon.

It was an innocent image to the average passerby, but Tokio was right. For a woman, it was quite delicious. About twenty men were in the courtyard, sparring, stretching, or practicing their sword swings and thrusts. Though the weather was cold, their motions created heat and as they stood in the early afternoon sun, bare chested and bare backed, their muscles gleaming with sweat, flexing with every motion.

Okita was off to the far right, sparring with someone, and Shousha could feel her jaw dropping to the ground. She had learned early on that he had a perfect persona. He was kind, gentle, sweet, and considerate. He was soft with her, and with children, but strong and convicted in his beliefs. He wasn't afraid to oppose her, but respected her wishes to remain on the outskirts of politics.

Shousha also recognized that he was a rather handsome man. He may have appeared a bit more youthful than he wanted to, having a round, boyish face with soft features, but he carried himself in a proud way. Whatever masculinity he lacked in his face, he made up for in his hands. They, too, were perfect. Strong and weathered, she often spent a great deal of time running her fingertips over his callouses, wishing that he would spend a great deal of time running those calloused palms over her own soft flesh.

Always the gentleman, he had not.

"Isn't this great?"

Shousha didn't have to turn to see Tokio's feline grin. She could feel it, and within an instant a similar smile appeared on her own face.

"This is naughty," she replied softly. Tokio hummed in response and Shousha let out a staggered breath. "He is so beautiful."

Tokio craned her neck. "Who, Sou? Yeah, he's a cutie, but if you want to see a _real _specimen, check out _that_ man." With two hands on the back of Shousha's head, she tilted the other woman's vision towards Okita's sparring partner.

"Oh," Shousha said, frowning, "I'm not so sure about that. He seems rather... ferocious."

Tokio ducked down, indulging in a small nibbling of her bottom lip to keep from giving herself away. While she regained her composure, Shousha peeked above the tiles to study the man of Tokio's apparent desire.

He _was _rather ferocious looking, with his angular features and seemingly permanent frown. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and if Shousha hadn't known any better, she would have thought he were trying to kill his small comrade the way he attacked with no reservation.

Okita, however, was laughing.

"He's not so bad," Tokio said, shrugging, "he's saved my life on more than one occasion. Would you believe I even proposed to him?" she paused to giggle, "he turned me down flat."

Shousha found this extremely difficult to believe. The young woman before her was easily the most beautiful female she had ever seen. If she were vain, she might have resented her presence due to that fact alone. She was not, so she didn't, but even still, a part of her was a bit jealous, wishing her skin was a little bit more like fresh milk, and her hair a little less than straight.

"So you fancy him, then?"

Tokio's cheeks warmed slightly, but she shook it off. "Not so much. He's just one of the few men who hasn't been a total boor to me."

This wasn't in the slightest bit true. If anyone, it was Saitou who was, in fact, the most boorish. He didn't care a whip for her emotions and often made a point of giving her a piece of his mind, no matter how offensive the slice may have been. It was for this reason exactly, however, that Tokio cherished their friendship so much. He wasn't at all afraid to hurt her feelings. She was not a delicate rose, or frail little miss. Though he made a point of refusing equality towards her, they were on much more level ground than he believed.

"I should go," Shousha said reluctantly, prying her eyes off the body of her forbidden friend, "my brother is expecting me home soon."

Tokio let out a small pout, but allowed her to lower herself onto the ground. "Do you think we could be friends?" she called down as Shousha bent to retrieve her apples, "secretly, of course. I'd hate for your brother to be upset with you."

Shousha looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun and grinned. "I think I'd like that very much. I've never had the company of another female, not one that I've enjoyed this much."

Tokio bade her farewell, giving her instructions on how to return to familiar roads, and then settled against the tiled overhang again, keeping her eyes set on Saitou's every movement. He didn't want a wife, he had told her. Perhaps she would never be his wife then, but even if nothing came of it, she wanted to touch him.

Just once.

"Hey! Takagi's peeping again!"

At the sound of the man's (she couldn't exactly place whose voice it was) words, Tokio ducked down out of sight, but it was too late. She could hear the murmur of men in their gloating, happy to have been a show for the bawdy virgin. Hajime was no doubt pulling his clothes back up over his shoulders in irritation and it was likely that Okita was doing the same, flushing with embarrassment.

The chatter silenced immediately, and Tokio was tempted to peek up and see just what had happened, but she didn't have to. There was a small crunch in the gravel as a figure stopped just below her, addressing her calmly.

"Takagi-san." It was Hijikata. "A word, please."

Tokio bit down on her lip so hard it cracked, blood pooling against her tongue. She had been caught many-a-time, and though she had received disapproving glances, and stern looks from Kondo, it was always Hijikata that took up the opportunity to scold her. Her day had been so lovely, why did _he_ have to be present today?

With a defeated sigh, she poked her head up, and looking down, met the bored, and slightly aggravated stare of the Shinsengumi's vice commander. When she jumped down, landing on the balls of her feet and the palms of her hands, she let out a mumbled apology and he looked at her with his icy green eyes.

"We'll have a walk," he decided, strolling from the courtyard, and barely giving her the chance to follow. She hurried after him and several of the samurai shouted humorously.

"You're in for it now!"

"Takagi's in trouble~!"

"Be gentle, Hijikata-san!"

When they were out on the street, Hijikata slowed his pace and motioned for her to walk alongside her. This was most peculiar, as Hijikata Toshizo was a most traditional man whom women always walked _behind_.

"Hijikata-san," Tokio began, "I apologize for-"

"Do not apologize, Tokio," he interrupted, surprising her with his informality. "I have not brought you out to reprimand you."

Tokio shut her mouth and stared ahead at the road. They had never been alone before. She didn't particularly feel threatened, but she was in no way at ease. What could he possibly want with her? Did he intend for her to do some sort of work for him? It would be easy for her. She was loved by most, and trusted by just as many. She would make for an excellent spy. Her father's position was very advantageous.

"It is true that you are not a very controlled woman," Hijikata told her, taking her elbow gently and leading her down a path lined with trees. Most of them were barren, the autumn wind having blown their leaves away, but there were some that still sported bright foliage, those desperate not to succumb to the changing of the seasons.

"Your fire and sense of power could be useful," he continued, "and even admired, if re-directed."

Tokio furrowed her brows, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I have watched you grow, Tokio," he said, tossing her what he considered to be a gentle smile. Had she been a weaker woman, she would have melted into his hands at that very moment. She had never before realized how beautiful he really was.

"You were once a spoiled and irritating child, but you have grown into a woman who is still spoiled and irritating, but with the potential to be so much more."

"I thank you for the compliments, sir," she said with a smile, stopping her stride as he did, turning away from her, "but I don't believe you called me out to shower me with praise, especially after what I have done this afternoon."

"Of course not," he mused, lifting his hand and catching a brilliant red maple leaf between his thumb and index finger, "my motive is entirely self-serving."

Tokio held her breath, waiting, and wondering just what he was on about. This was the most he had ever spoken to her, so she imagined it must have been important. Kondo would have been a better fit to ask her to perform any task, but she imagined that being so busy, he wouldn't take time out of his schedule to deal with someone like her.

"And what, might I ask, is your motive, sir?"

"I have a proposition for you, Takagi-san," he replied, still not looking at her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest and she wondered if he could hear it. She was excited for this proposition. Even though she was uncouth and determined to be independent, she _did_ want to be useful, and if there was any task, no matter how menial, that she alone could perform for the Shinsengumi, she would do it without hesitation, if only to prove to Hajime that she was more than just a silly girl with dreams.

"Please," she encouraged, "tell me what I can do for you."

He spun the leaf between his fingers, looking not at it, but through it, as a soft, far away smile graced his features. With practiced perfection, he flicked his naturally seductive gaze towards her, rooting her.

"I would like for you to become my wife."

_What?_

Tokio felt herself pale, and she blinked once. Twice. Three times. _What did he say_?

Seeing her stunned reaction, Hijikata tossed the leaf aside and rotated his body to face hers completely. "I understand that this is rather sudden," he told her, "so please, do not feel obligated to answer immediately. I will grant you all the time you need."

Mouth opening and closing rapidly, searching for words, searching for _breath_, Tokio couldn't think.

"Wh-_why_?" was the only sound her voice managed to make.

"The answer is simple," he replied, "I am in need of a permanent companion, of a spouse. I will require children soon, and need to be sure that my bride is more than capable of performing adequately in all aspects of marriage. I have spoken with your father, and the match is rather fitting for both of us. You are young, healthy, and intelligent. There is no flaw in your lineage, and have surpassed the standards of attractiveness. You are difficult to handle, but I have no doubt that with enough time, you will domesticate."

He didn't sound like he was proposing marriage, he sounded like he was purchasing a horse.

"I-I don't know what to say," Tokio finally breathed, "I am flattered, Hijikata-san, I truly am."

And she was. It wasn't because he was beautiful or honorable, but that he was the most sought after man in Kyoto. He had scores of women writing him love letters each day, and could barely march through the market without at least a dozen fainting at his feet. The fact that he would choose _her_, a girl who was more interested in skipping stones in the pond than in arranging flowers, was quite flattering indeed.

Finding her equilibrium, Tokio cleared her throat and searched for her confidence, pulling forth her favourite line.

"And my dowry," she wondered curiously, though she was unable to conjure up the sweetly innocent voice that she always used. "surely it would benefit your cause greatly."

Hijikata looked away with an amused smiled. "You may keep it. I have little use for marriage money myself."

For the second time, Tokio was at a loss for words. No man relinquished his right to a dowry. Certainly not to his wife.

"My proposal comes with a gift," he added, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small lacquered box. On it, carved from ivory, was the scene of a weeping willow, with cranes flying lazily over what appeared to be a lake. "From the most desired man, to the most desired woman."

Nibbling her lip nervously, Tokio lifted the box open, gasping at what she saw. Laying on a satin cushion, was a decorative hair comb, entirely encrusted with diamonds. Eyes wide, she looked up at him, completely breathless.

With gentle movements, Hijikata lifted the hairpiece from its resting place, and standing behind her, pulled back some of her shining black curls and slid the comb into the array, locking the strands in place.

"I have no intention of begging for you hand," he told her, "but I do plan to woo you properly."

Tokio swallowed hard.

"Hijikata-san..."

Coming to stand before her again, he blinked slowly, his face having returned to its default, stoic expression.

"I believe given the circumstances you may see fit to address me as Toshizo."

"Toshizo," she amended, "I have one question for you."

"Please," he said, taking her elbow and leading her back to the dojo.

"Do you like me?"

Without looking at her, he questioned, "how do you mean?"

"Do you think of me," she pressed, "when you cannot see me? Do you have... romantic thoughts about me?"

"Ah," he replied, understanding. "You are wondering if I might come to love you."

Tokio hadn't been thinking so steeply, but she nodded nonetheless.

"I believe that if both husband and wife attend their duties appropriately, then affection has the potential to take root."

Tokio's heart sank. "That is what I thought."

When they returned to the dojo, Tokio immediately left Hijikata's side in search of her friends. They were relaxing in the living area, and she was thankful that the three men were alone. Upon her entrance, they fell silent and it was Harada who spoke first.

"That must have been some scolding," he laughed, "Takagi's white as a sheet!"

On shaking legs, she made her way over to the group, kneeling before them, unable to speak, still trying to process what had just transpired.

Okita cocked his head, "are you alright, Takagi-san? He didn't hurt your feelings too badly, did he?"

Tokio shook her head. "No.." she whispered. "he didn't scold me at all."

Saitou snorted and Harada shrugged, "Then what's the matter with you?"

"He..." she took a deep breath, still unsure how to voice the words that she had said so often about so many other men. "He proposed."

Saitou's eyes became sharp on her face and his eyes traveled up to the glittering comb in her hair. It was new. Tokio didn't own anything of the sort. All of her adornments were much less flashy - ivory, jade, and the like.

"_That bastard!"_ It was Harada who pounded his fist on the tatami, "has he no shame? I didn't even know he was sweet on you."

"He's not," Tokio replied flatly, "he told me that affection had the _potential_ to take root, should we both stay true to our duties."

Pushing himself up roughly, he laid a strong hand on the top of her head. "Don't worry about a thing, Takagi. I'm gonna go fix him up good."

Saitou, however, showed little emotion on the matter. "It is a good match," he said simply, "You should accept him. I doubt you could do any better."

The hurt that splattered across her face did not go unnoticed by Okita, who offered her an encouraging smile.

"Saitou-san is right," he told her gently, "Hijikata-san is a wonderful catch. I think you would be very happy with him."

"Don't look so miserable," Saitou snapped, standing, "every other woman in this city would kill to be in your position. Ungratefulness is not becoming."

Not granting her the chance to respond, he stormed from the room in need of a cigarette. There was an annoying, no, painful feeling slamming against his chest and he needed to quell it. It was a new emotion for him and he wasn't exactly sure how to place it. Instead, he masked it with anger and irritation, blaming her for whatever he could, and stood against a wooden beam, smoking furiously.

He hadn't meant what he said. He didn't want her to marry Hijikata. He was _not_ an appropriate match for her, and no amount of expensive gifts would change that. He was too stiff, too boring for a woman like Tokio. She needed freedom, but to be challenged, not to be caged and tamed.

Snuffing out his seventh cigarette, Saitou's expression grew darker and darker. He hated women and the trouble they brought. He also hated men, and being a man, because no matter how indifferent they claimed to be, no matter how many walls they built up to protect themselves, there was one universal truth.

Women destroyed men.

_Love_ destroyed everything.

xxxx

**Author's Note: **Saitou, your logic makes no sense. Just admit that you're jealous, you stubborn man, you.


	8. A Building Panic

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Fine Lines**

**Chapter 08**

The days that followed Hijikata's proposal were awkward ones for both Saitou and Tokio. Though he tried to hide his annoyance, Saitou found himself resenting her existence, as well as his responsibility for her, snapping at her whenever she moved a whisper out of place or, more often than not, refusing to address her existence at all.

Aside from the general awkwardness of being proposed to by Hijikata Toshizo out of the clear blue, Tokio couldn't help but feel that Hajime was angry with her. She knew that his patience was limited, and he set most of it aside for her, but surely she hadn't done anything so terrible as to be ignored for days.

As she climbed up the staircase one afternoon with a steaming bowl of soba, she pondered what he might have been so upset about. She had seen his mood spells before and fallen victim to them on many occasions. None of them, however, had ever felt so directly associated with _her._

With a deep breath, she slid open the door, and set his lunch down beside him.

He didn't acknowledge her at all.

She had half expected this, of course. It had been nearly a week. She sighed softly, a light, dejected sound, and folded her hands in her lap.

"_What."_

Tokio looked up in surprise, her stormy eyes lifting up to his two narrow ones. His brows were knit in irritation and the way he had shoved his face towards hers made her feel like she had been nagging at him for a month without response.

"What?" she echoed with disbelief, "what do you mean, '_what_'?"

"What do you _want_?" he demanded.

"What do I want, Hajime? Who said I wanted anything? I've always sat with you in the afternoon."

He huffed. "You're sitting there sighing like a jilted bride. What is your problem?"

Tokio could feel anger rising in her chest, but she begged herself to contain it. None of her previous outbursts had been appreciated by him and she doubted that screaming at him now would resolve the tension he was putting between them.

"I just want to know what I did to make you so angry," she said, inhaling quietly.

Saitou let out a breath of sardonic air and turned from her. "Who said you've done anything? The world doesn't revolve around you, Tokio. At least mine doesn't."

This was a lie, and he knew it. He wasn't quite ready to admit it, as it put him in a foul mood whenever he considered her and her marriage to, well, anyone.

"I don't expect you to give me all of your attention, you know that," she replied testily, "but you are my best friend. After all the years we've spent together, it seems a little odd that you would suddenly find my presence so repulsive."

Her words pierced him, as did the emotion that choked them. Sighing, he shook his head and relaxed his body.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his face, "it's not you."

This appeased her, and he was glad to see relief wash over her face at his lie.

"It's been a bad week," he added stiffly, "and you happened to be here. I apologize for penalizing you for my frustrations. It won't happen again."

"It will," she told him, but smiled when she said, "but as long as I know you're just being you, I don't mind it so much."

This caused him to laugh softly with her. There were precious few who could call him out on his prickly demeanor and not only survive, but entertain him with their declarations. Tokio knew him well, better than most, and even if his acceptance of her was reluctant, he was thankful for her.

Pushing back his writing, he turned to her. He supposed he'd have to hold some sort of conversation with her now.

"Have you given any thought to Hijikata's proposal?"

It was the last thing he wanted to discuss, but having had been so busy ignoring her for a week, it was all he could come up with.

Tokio grimaced. He liked that.

"I haven't seen him since he proposed," she said, bringing her knees up to her chest, "and… oh I don't know, Hajime. I don't _want _to think about it."

For the first time in their entire friendship, there was a genuine sadness in her eyes while her mouth smiled, then frowned, then tripped up on its own confusion. Together they had always laughed off proposals as if it were a game. She had always known there was someone better than the last and he had confidence that she wouldn't settle for just any old slop with a handsome smile and a heavy purse.

They weren't laughing this time.

How could they? All of the other young men had been lovesick and money hungry. Hijikata was different. All he wanted was a wife. He hadn't chosen Tokio because she was beautiful or wealthy. He had chosen her because she was a good woman who, if they married, would stand strong by his side for the remainder of his days. She was no novelty and he had made that known.

Possibly above all else, Hijikata was a powerful man who did not make impulsive choices, but weighed the good and the bad of everything in his life. The bad was swiftly disposed of, while the good was carefully tended to with icy hands.

Tokio knew he was serious, and she also knew that her choices were quickly running out. Her father was expecting her to marry and bear children. He longed for grandchildren, something he made note of often. At some point she would need to leave his house for another. She was eighteen years old. Surely she shouldn't be dependent on her parents any longer.

"I can't imagine myself as his wife," she sighed, "I don't think he would ever love me. I don't think he can love anyone."

Saitou frowned. He wasn't accustomed to her melancholy demeanor, and he was willing to admit that it made him uncomfortable. Still, her hold on her fairy tale ideals made his skin crawl.

"What is with you and your obsession with _love_?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall. "You have got to let go of it, Tokio."

"Why should I?" she challenged, "who's to say I won't fall in love, or that someone won't fall in love with me?"

Saitou closed his eyes, counting backwards. They had been over this countless times and she refused to budge on the subject.

"Tokio. It just isn't the way of the world. How many love matches do you know of?"

With furrowed brows, she bit down on her lip. "That's exactly why I want it so badly."

She was met with his silence so she looked away from him. "Think of my mother. I don't want to become her."

"Your mother is a good woman," he said gently.

"I know she is," Tokio replied, standing, "but she doesn't love my father. For all of the love he gives to her, for all the affection he pours over her, she doesn't want it. I don't think she's happy with him at all."

Saitou watched as she began to pace the room. "Tokio, you are over thinking. Your parents are good people. They are happy people."

"Hajime-" as she passed him, he reached out and gripped her wrist and she stopped, looking down at his sharp features looking up at her.

"Tokio, stop."

For a moment, while they were watching each other, and wondering what would happen next, Saitou pondered what would happen if he pulled her down to him right this moment. If he kept her arm in his grasp, if he put his other hand on the back of her neck, and drew her closer.

How would she react? She'd spurn him, more likely than not. How dare he act in such a fashion: ignoring her, degrading her for days and then turning around and playing passionate lover. Ha! The audacity of such a man.

But that was exactly what he was. A man. Any sane man could not be in the presence of such a specimen day in and day out and not have at least one naughty thought about her.

Saitou had always prided himself in being immune to her charm. Not that she ever _displayed_ such charm. All the saps that had fallen to their knees had done so only at the mere sight of her. Now, however, while they were on the cusp of being separated forever, he found himself wanting, no, _needing_ her.

It was stupid, thinking that even for a fleeting night she could be his. She was high society, high class. His parents had abandoned him on the streets. She was beautiful. His face was mean. She had an impeccable reputation, free of blemish or blame.

He was a wolf, and his name dripped blood.

"Hajime?"

Her voice, curious and unusually soft pulled him from his self-pity and he realized he was still holding her arm, and she was still allowing it.

"We should go," he said, using her as leverage to pull himself up to a stand, "the sun sets early now."

"Of course," she replied, but then looked to the uneaten soba, "aren't you hungry?"

"I'll be eating dinner at your house tonight," he decided. Seeing her pleasantly surprised face, he shrugged, "your father has requested it."

This wasn't true, of course, but he knew Kojuro well enough to be able to secure himself an invitation to the Takagi dining table. In turn, Tokio did a joyous dance and followed him dutifully out of the room.

"I bet we'll be having the _best_ food tonight! You know how special it is when you eat with us."

"Oh yes," he said dryly, "only the best for a wolf of Mibu."

"Stop it!" she chastised, the anxiety of her proposal melting away as he jested with her, "you're a very important man! Especially to me."

He paused, only momentarily, and though she couldn't see him, bouncing along behind him as she was, he smiled.

And then he frowned.

When she married Hijikata, everything he knew would disappear.

xxxx

"Mmmmm! Let's get something to eat!"

As winter wind whipped through the city and merchants groaned, two lovers huddled together, laughing at secret jokes and whispering tokens of affection while they walked down the streets.

As much as she hated the cold weather, Shousha had no complaints today. Okita had one arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly against his own small frame in an attempt to shield her from the wind.

"I could _always_ get something to eat," he replied with a smile, leading her around a corner.

With the season change bringing ice, snow, and freezing temperatures, their meetings had been reduced to little more than five minute spurts when they arranged to happen upon each other during errands. There were some days, such as this, where they would brave the cold, just to feel the warmth of each others hands, and the comfort of a smile.

Laughing, Okita let his hand slip from her shoulder and seamlessly into her palm where he pulled her into a small restaurant. It was always busy here; they would be able to tuck themselves away quietly and without question.

A waitress greeted them, a skinny thing with large green eyes and long brown hair. Despite the constant bustle, she smiled at him.

"Okita-san!" she greeted him happily with a bow, "welcome! It is always a pleasure to serve you."

Shousha stepped up into the establishment then and the girl let out a small squeak, holding the tray up to her face in disbelief. When she shoved it back down, her gaze wandered to their hands, fingers laced together comfortably.

"Hello Hiroto," Shousha said with a sheepish smile.

Hiroto did a quick scan of the restaurant before ushering the two into the darkest corner she could find. When she spoke again, her tone was that of a harsh whisper.

"Does your brother have any idea what you're doing?"

Okita smiled gently, "Hiroto-chan, please do not worry on our account." He hadn't expected Hiroto to know Shousha, never mind be on relatively friendly terms with her, but this could very well work to their advantage. He, too, was on friendly terms with her. Certainly she would shield them from any disruption.

At Okita's casual request, Hiroto looked at Shousha who cleared her throat and looked down at the menu.

So he didn't know.

This put Hiroto in an awkward position, but as she wasn't the voice of authority over either of them, there was little she could do about it. Instead, she smiled.

"I'm glad for you both."

She left then to fetch some tea, and Shousha smiled across the table. "I can't wait for spring. Our hill will have thawed and we won't have to hide in dark corners anymore."

Hiroto returned with the tea and Okita poured, watching his raven haired beauty as she sat in comfortable silence. He missed her dearly, and also couldn't wait for the weather to break. He didn't like to hide, and he didn't like the cold, but another effect winter had on them was her brother. Because of the weather, he tended to business at home and it was difficult for her to slip away unnoticed, or dawdle on errands. He was lucky to have met with her today; her brother would be attending meetings all day, she had said.

This was slightly disconcerting to Okita. It seemed that as each day passed, he was becoming more and more involved in the work of the revolutionaries. He had voiced his concern once day, but Shousha had only smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"It seems that way because we are apart," she told him, "he is no more or less active than he has always been."

It was a truth in its entirety. He had always put his entire being into the revolution. It was simply more noticeable now.

Their food arrived and while they ate they talked of dreams of spring, summer, and the end of war. Okita complimented her ribbon (another he had gifted to her) and she poked fun of the way he blushed when he did so.

Then he went silent.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth fell into a straight line. Shousha stopped talking, knowing that he wasn't hearing her. She watched as his eyes followed someone behind her and she swallowed. She had never seen him less than cheerful. Even when she watched him patrol the city he was smiling.

"Don't turn around, Shousha."

The ice in his words scampered up her spine and settled at the base of her neck in a painful, stinging sensation. She could feel her teeth begin to chatter- they did that when she was nervous.

"What's wrong?"

He was alert and focused. This wasn't the man she was so fond of, but a warrior, born and bred.

"It's Katsura."

He must have noticed the spike in her heart beat, or the panic in her _ki_, because he relaxed his face and reached over, covering her hand with his own.

"It's alright," he cooed, stroking her soft skin with his calloused fingers, "If they see me, I don't want them to know who you are."

She understood his concern. Imagine the imperialists getting their hands on the first captain's woman! The leverage they would have! But they wouldn't have any leverage at all. She belonged with them.

But if it truly was Kogoro behind her (oh gods it was! She could hear his polite laughter.), then it wasn't she that was in danger, but Okita. No doubt she would be in a sort of trouble she could never fathom, but he would be dead.

It was a ghastly image that presented itself in her head. It only took one swing of the Battousai's steel (was he there too?), and the charming captain would be strewn across their lunch table, neck agape, and eyes blank, staring up at her, bleeding so many unspoken words.

She must have been trembling. She must have been crying, because Hiroto was at the table handing her a handkerchief, and Okita had come to her side, holding her against the side of his face while he watched Katsura.

It was a simple lunch date. There were two other men with him, two big time patriots, and two geisha. They hadn't noticed him, not yet, and it didn't seem as if they had any interest in any of the other patrons either. Still, all it took was one look up, one ponder in his direction.

"Go out through the kitchen," whispered Hiroto, nudging the two of them out of the dining area before making a show of greeting Katsura (whom she particularly favored) and his friends.

Okita didn't need to be told again. With a nod of thanks, he whisked Shousha out of the restaurant, unseen by anyone, and into the back alley. A cat mewed in protest at the human intruders, but he didn't notice. Pulling on her arm, he ran through the alleys, the side streets, and the passageways until they couldn't breathe any longer. They were far from the restaurant now. He knew they hadn't been seen, and he knew that no one was after them, but he was unnerved all the same.

Shousha, however, was sobbing.

Pulling his hand up inside the sleeve of his haori, Okita smiled at her gently and lifted her chin, dabbing away at her tears while she hiccuped and clutched his arm.

"I"m sorry," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head, "I was so frightened."

"It's alright," he said, pulling her close. She buried her face in his neck and he felt her hot tears spilling down his collar bone, "I'll never let them hurt you."

"I know," she choked, hands splayed out on his back. How could she tell him that she wasn't afraid for herself? It was his life she feared for.

He let her cry, selfishly savoring their closeness. She was trembling and sputtering nonsense. Her small fingers clenched the fabric at his back, then released it, smoothing it in an awkward, jerky gesture. She apologized.

Closing his eyes, Okita lifted one of his hands, resting it in her hair.

"I could hold you forever," he breathed.

Her breath hitched. Her tears stopped, and she lifted her head, forcing out her voice.

"W-what do you mean?"

With a breath, he stepped back, feet scraping in the snow, and he lifted her chin with two fingers.

"I will never let anyone hurt you again," he said, brown eyes solemn and genuine, "not with words, nor hands or steel."

Shousha's own eyes grew wide at this, and before she could think better of it, she spoke quietly.

"Or wax?"

Okita swallowed hard. She hadn't ever gone into the details of her marriage before. It was a topic they stayed clear of, much like war and politics. She had been screamed at, talked down to, and hit. She had been beaten by rod, and by lash, and now, as a truth was made clear to him, she had been burnt as well. All over a force she couldn't control.

"Nothing," he vowed, "will bring you pain."

He had hoped to win her favor entirely by this. It wasn't an empty promise by any means, and it was not a trick to seduce or to deceive. He meant every word. He was a dreamer, and so was she.

As her smile faded, however, he remembered that jaded dreamers hold skepticism.

"How can you be certain?" she asked, the last shudder resonating through her body.

He nibbled on his lip for a moment, unsure of how to express what he meant. Words were never far from his tongue, but oftentimes they jumbled themselves up and didn't come out quite right. Other times he found himself speaking freely without any thought.

"Because," he said firmly, turning away slightly and balling his hands into confident fists at his side. He was right. He had to be right. "because I believe I am in love with you, Shou-chan."

Shyly he slid his gaze back to her to assess her reaction. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw was slack. There was a heaving in her chest that made him nervous, and fresh tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a deep breath, "it was forward of me. I shouldn't have said it. It was rude, and presumptuous."

Shousha took a step forward, "Sou…"

He laughed, dismissing himself, "I just couldn't help myself. It seems so silly saying it out loud. I've never said it before. I've never been in love before. I never even had a crush on a girl. Not a real one anyway. Not a real crush, I mean. She was a real girl, of course. I don't think I could see myself with a man, not in the way that I see myself with you-"

Her fingers against his lips stopped his rambling.

"Don't talk, Sou," she whispered, smiling at him as she ran her other hand underneath his haori. It was a relatively chaste gesture, an act of keeping her hand warm perhaps, but it lit him aflame and the willpower it took for him not to groan aloud was record breaking.

When she withdrew her fingers, he wanted to whimper in protest, but when her hands fisted the front of his clothing and pulled him closer, he felt his breath leave him, and when she crushed her mouth against his, in a manner decidedly _not_ chaste, he nearly collapsed.

His senses came back to him quickly, raw testosterone taking charge, and, holding her face in his hands, he kissed her back with all the urgency of a man starved from birth.

"I can't bear the thought of being apart from you," she muttered between kisses, "I feel my heart break each time I watch you leave."

"We are never truly apart," he sighed back to her, tracing the outline of her jaw with his nose, and brushing the other side of her neck with his fingertips, "I carry you wherever I am."

"Everywhere?" she asked, knees weak from his touch, "I am afraid for you to cross my threshold."

"Everywhere," he repeated, nuzzling the junction of her collar, "my heart beats for you. My heart beats _because_ of you."

Shousha basked in this adoration for a moment, smiling against every move he made, suddenly having forgotten how cold it was, or that her life nearly shattered before her eyes not twenty minutes ago. Here, with him, everything was perfect.

"I feel sixteen," she said, giggling when he pulled her into an embrace, resting his chin atop her head.

"Me too," he agreed, "and it is summer, not winter."

"It's strange to think of the mess our world is in right now. I almost don't believe it."

Okita gave her a small squeeze. "how do you mean?"

"Well," she started, "each day rains blood. Our streets are filled with dead men fighting for the new, or to protect the old. Lives are lost, memories are scattered, and homes destroyed.

"You are a vital asset to the shogunate, a protector by duty, and I am bound to the revolution by blood, yet here we are, together, kissing in a dirty alley because we are in love."

It was an observation that couldn't be argued, but in this moment, he hardly cared. She was right. They were together.

And they were in love.

xxxx

**Author's Notes**: I…guess… Saitou is making headway with his feelings? hahaha

Please leave some feedback! This story has a lot in store for our main four!


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